The Daughter of Red
by tifafenrir09
Summary: Set a few years after the events of The Blind Banker and just after His Last Vow. The Black Lotus Tong have returned, this time with a new leader and a new motive; revenge. But what will happen when the lives of those dearest to Sherlock are put in danger, especially a certain pathologist? Sherlock x Molly
1. The Game Is On!

_This is my first Sherlock fanfic, and I hope I'll do the show and characters justice! The idea for the story came to me when I was asleep, funnily enough, and also by browsing Sherlock x Molly fan art._

_But anyways, I hope you all enjoy it! I don't own Sherlock or the characters from the show; they belong to the BBC, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss._

* * *

It was a cold and dreary evening in London. Near the centre of the city, Big Ben struck 8pm, the eight chimes echoing across the evening sky. The rain splashed heavily against the pavement, as though the clouds had been pierced and were leaking all the water they stored out on anyone unfortunate to be out in the cold at the time. All seemed quiet in the city as the people went about their business.

Well, except for the famous 'consulting detective' Sherlock Holmes.

He stood in his flat at 221B Baker Street, lost in thought inside his 'mind palace' thinking about a case he was working on, his train of thought going over the details like a complicated jigsaw puzzle. The only sound he could hear, or rather was allowing his ears to hear, was the sound of him playing on his violin, playing one of his many melodies to help him think.

_**SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER...**_

Earlier that morning, his older brother Mycroft had called for him to see him in his office. "Official business, so make sure you're on time. And **do** make sure you're wearing clothes, brother of mine." he'd explained in his secretive ways. He occupied a minor role in the British Government; yet to Sherlock, Mycroft Holmes **was** the British Government.

No sooner had Mycroft finished calling him, Sherlock was taken by car to his office, escorted by some men in suits; something Sherlock had now become quite used to whenever Mycroft had a problem he couldn't solve by himself. Awaiting him was his best friend John Watson. He had recently become a father, his wife Mary having given birth to a baby girl. Sherlock noticed right away the dark circles under John's eyes. "You seem more tired than usual." Sherlock observed.

"Yeah, well, apparently babies think that in order to get some sleep, both Mummy and Daddy need to be awake as well." John replied, seeming to be slightly moodier than usual. He stifled a yawn as the two men were led to Mycroft's office.

"Good to see you again, boys." Mycroft's assistant Anthea smiled as they walked by. Sherlock noticed she was busy with her phone, as she seemed to always be.

"You should cut down visiting those gossip sites; they're nothing but useless and unimportant news." Sherlock replied, deducing her from a single glance. He was definitely in a bad mood this morning.

John rolled his eyes, but gave Anthea a friendly nod. "Sherlock, what's going on? Why does your brother want to see us at this time of morning? He should've realised that taking care of my wife and baby daughter are my main concerns now." he asked quietly.

"Perhaps he has an itch that he can't seem to scratch with his umbrella." Sherlock muttered, causing the two men to grin, trying their hardest to stifle their laughter.

They were led inside Mycroft's office and directed to their seats. "Ah, I'm glad you got here on time. And at such short notice too." Mycroft beamed at his guests, holding a brown file in his left hand. In his other hand, he held his trademark umbrella.

Sherlock sighed with contempt with his brother's 'welcome'. "Mycroft, you know I hate rude awakenings, especially when I should be asleep at this time of morning. Now what could possibly warrant me being awoken at 6 o'clock in the morning?" he asked impatiently. He clearly didn't enjoy being here and certainly had more important things to do than clean up the messes his older brother and the government made.

"I'm sure you remember the case involving the Black Lotus Tong?" Mycroft began, showing his brother the contents of the file. Sherlock leaned over to have a closer look, the cogs and gears of his mind starting to click as he looked over each of the details.

John sat up at the mention of the Black Lotus Tong. It was a name he recognised all too well. "I remember them; they're the ones who thought I was Sherlock and tried to kill me!" he realised. "I thought they'd escaped back to China?" he asked, with a look of confusion on his face.

"I thought you would. It seems that they're back in London, only this time with a different motive." Mycroft replied, sitting at his desk. "As I'm sure you remember, the Black Lotus Tong were at one time involved with Moriarty and had tried to smuggle Ancient Chinese artefacts into London. However, it seemed that one of two English smugglers they'd employed had betrayed them, which led to them eliminating both of them." he continued, recounting the main details of the case.

"But why have they come back now?" John asked. He looked more worried than confused now, especially at the thought that his family could be in serious danger.

"Ah, that's where you and my brother come in." Mycroft answered, handing him a small leaflet. "The British Museum will be hosting an event to mark the Chinese New Year with an exhibition of Chinese artefacts as the main headliner. We've received word that the Black Lotus Tong are after you two." he began.

"Let me guess; they're still angry that I shut down their little smuggling scheme and now want to come after myself and John to have revenge?" Sherlock interrupted, raising his head from reading the file.

"Well, to put it bluntly; yes." Mycroft nodded.

"Oh...Boring!" Sherlock replied in a sing-song voice.

"Sherlock, this is serious! Mary and the baby could be in danger! If the Black Lotus Tong finds out that I have a wife and daughter, they'll come after them too!" John exclaimed furiously.

"Oh relax, they'll be fine. They probably think you're with that woman they kidnapped with you...Sadie?" Sherlock answered calmly.

"Sarah." John corrected him.

"Right, that one." Sherlock nodded. "Mycroft, if they were really after me, they would've done it a lot sooner, don't you think?" he added, casting an unamused glance to his brother.

"There's a new leader in charge here, and she's not playing any games. We have reason to believe that she could be as dangerous as Moriarty, perhaps more." Mycroft answered.

Sherlock sat back with a serious expression on his face. "What did you say?" he asked quietly.

"There's someone more dangerous than Moriarty? That can't be possible, can it?" John asked.

"Her name is General Lien. She's become well known in China for her sadistic personality. They call her _the Daughter of Red_, due to her red lipstick...and love of blood." Mycroft explained as he handed them a file showing details of a young Chinese woman with a photo included.

John looked over the file. "How did she get to the top of the gang?" he asked.

"There were rumours that she is the daughter of someone higher up in the gang who died and thus their title was passed to her. Others say she earned the role of leadership by seducing men higher up in the gang and having them promise her their power." Mycroft replied.

"Do you think she's here in London, right now?" John asked. He was looking over to Sherlock, who was engrossed in the file Mycroft had just given them.

"We can't say for sure, but the Chinese government has begun shipping out artefacts to London for the exhibit. There have also been several murders committed by the Black Lotus in China, and we have reason to believe that General Lien may plan to commit more while she's in London in order to draw you out." Mycroft replied.

Sherlock snapped the file shut. "Well, that's just part of the fun with serial killers, isn't it?" he grinned, a familiar twinkle in his eye. "John, get your coat." he began. He swiftly took to his feet, pulling on his own coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck.

"Uh, where're you going?" John called, unsure of what was happening.

"Oh, didn't you know? The game, John, is on!" Sherlock exclaimed, leaving Mycroft's office.

* * *

_**8PM, 221B BAKER STREET**_

Sherlock played his violin, thinking over every piece of detail, when his thoughts were interrupted by his landlady Mrs. Hudson calling for him; "Sherlock, there's someone at the door!"

"Tell them I'm busy! I'm in the middle of a case!" Sherlock answered back with irritation in his voice. Turning back to his violin, he resumed playing when there was a loud knock on the flat's front door. "Mrs. Hudson, I thought I told you I was-!" he yelled, opening the door. He stopped when he saw who was there in front of him: "Molly." he blinked, an uncharacteristic expression of surprise registering on his face.

The pathologist looked like she'd been out in the rain for quite some time; her brown hair was sticking to her wet skin, her clothes were completely drenched with rain and she was shivering. But what stood out most to Sherlock was the redness of her eyes. It looked like something had made her cry, and it seemed like she'd come quite a distance to see him. "I-I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you, but I-I really need to talk to someone." she stammered, her voice sounding like she was about to cry again.

Sherlock felt his stomach knot. Part of him wanted to pass this off as part of the weakness that was sentimentality, but the other side of him felt like he owed it to her that he listen to her problems. After all, she'd been so much help to him, she deserved at least some spare minutes of his time. "Who's hurt you?" he asked gently, instinctively knowing that Molly wouldn't be crying without a reason.

Molly burst into fresh tears, practically throwing herself onto Sherlock. "I-I don't know why-" she began, getting choked up with her words through her tears.

Sherlock surprised himself by wrapping his arms around Molly's quivering form. "Mrs. Hudson, put the kettle on. We need some tea." he called, his voice now in a soft tone.


	2. Returning The Favour

Molly sat in the sitting area of Sherlock's flat. He had given her some of his spare clothing while her wet clothes were being dried by Mrs. Hudson. The spare clothes were baggy and loose on Molly's small frame, making it look like she was in her pyjamas. In her hands was a hot cup of tea, brewed to keep her warm and to stop her shivering. Sherlock sat down in front of her. Unlike the many times he'd had people sit before him, she wasn't his client; instead she was just a friend who needed a shoulder to cry on. "Now, tell me what happened." he prompted her. "Please." he then added, his voice almost in a soothing tone.

She let out a heavy sigh, as though a heavy burden was on her shoulders. "Well, I was going to meet Tom for coffee - you remember Tom, my ex-fiancé?" she began.

"Yes, of course." Sherlock nodded. He remembered the very moment he met Tom. The man had dressed similar to Sherlock and looked almost like him; the only thing that could tell the two apart was Tom's lack of logic. Sherlock had held his tongue about Molly's choice for a potential husband, but even he knew she could've done better.

"He said he wanted to talk to me about something important, and asked me to meet him for coffee at where we had our first date." she continued, before suddenly looking a bit embarrassed. "I'm ashamed to admit this, but I thought that he wanted to see me because he wanted to give us another go." she confessed, rubbing behind her neck. "But anyway, I got there and saw him talking to another girl. I thought that she was probably a cousin or an old friend of his, so I didn't notice anything suspicious. So, I waved to him, but he didn't notice me." Molly explained. "A-And then, I saw something else..." she paused. She bit her bottom lip as more tears started to form in her eyes.

"What is it? What did you see?" Sherlock asked, even though he knew the answer already from the tearful look on Molly's face.

She took a gulp of tea to steady her nerves for a moment. "Tom and that girl; t-they were kissing." she croaked. Sherlock looked somewhat saddened when she gave her answer, despite knowing what she would say. "I didn't know what to think, so I went in there and shouted at him, saying that if meeting his new bird was that important, he should've told me from the beginning. A-And then I stormed out. Tom was trying to say something but I was too upset to listen. I don't know if he followed me, but I just started running. I couldn't stop crying. It's like he'd thrown everything about our relationship right back in my face." she continued. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to regain her composure. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this, I know relationships aren't your cup of tea. Sherlock, do you think I was stupid to see him?" she asked, turning to face him.

Sherlock listened to her story, making observations about Molly's behaviour. It was clear that Tom's actions had caused her considerable pain. "You had a lucky escape when your engagement ended. Tom's actions were unforgivable and he should've considered your feelings when he asked to meet you." he began, his hands under his chin. "Listen to me, Molly Hooper; you should never for one second think that you are stupid. You will find the right man who will treat you as the unique person that you are." he continued.

Molly felt her cheeks blush with a faint red. _Sherlock Holmes is saying something...__**nice**__ to me?_ she thought. "Thank you, Sherlock. I feel a little better now." she smiled. Sherlock immediately noticed the change in her. The heaviness on her shoulders now seemed to be lifted.

"Here we are, sweetheart. Your clothes are now completely bone dry." Mrs. Hudson smiled, bringing Molly's now dry clothes. They'd been ironed and cleaned, now smelling completely fresh instead of the dampness of the rain.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Molly beamed, taking the folded clothes from her. "Um, can I-?" she began, looking at Sherlock rather shyly.

Sherlock nodded to give her the go-ahead. She didn't need to finish her sentence. The only room with enough privacy in the flat was the bathroom. "Take as much time as you need." he replied.

Molly gave him a grateful smile and went to get changed. As soon as the bathroom door was shut, Mrs. Hudson looked towards Sherlock. "I'm surprised you haven't asked her out. The girl is very fond of you, Sherlock." she beamed.

"Sentimentality is a weakness that affects people's emotions. It weakens resolve and renders a person more susceptible to their deeper thoughts." Sherlock replied coolly. "And it's a weakness I do not need." he added, looking towards his landlady.

"Mark my words, Sherlock Holmes; you'll end up regretting you said that. She'll mean more to you than you thought she did." Mrs. Hudson chuckled as she left the flat, heading to her own downstairs. Sherlock shook his head to himself dismissing her words as just that; words.

As soon as she'd left, Molly came out of the bathroom, now dressed in her own clothes. "I should get going. Toby will need some feeding, and he tends to get a bit grumpy if I don't feed him on time." she smiled. "I put your spare clothes away for washing. You don't mind, do you?" she asked, hoping she hadn't insulted him in some way.

"No, it's fine." he replied, grabbing his coat and scarf. "Shall we be off then?" he asked.

"Off? Where're we going?" Molly asked, looking confused.

"I'm escorting you home of course." Sherlock replied. "Is that going to be a problem?" he asked.

Molly felt her face go a little more red than earlier. "N-No, of course not..." she stammered, a little shocked that Sherlock was volunteering to take her home. _What did Mrs Hudson put in his tea?_ she thought.

"Good, then I suggest we go now. Don't want to make Toby upset now, do we?" he smiled before heading downstairs.

Molly nodded, somewhat speechless. _A compliment __**and**__ a walk home on the same day? I must be dreaming..._ she thought to herself as she headed after him.

Sherlock opened the door and slightly grimaced at the sight of the weather. "It's still raining. We'll have to make sure we get there without you getting wet again." he pondered. He then slightly removed his coat before offering it to Molly. Registering the puzzled look on her face, he sighed. "It's to cover you from the rain." he explained, making it as simple as he could.

"Oh, of course. I should've realised." Molly smiled, laughing a little nervously. She felt a bit mad at herself for not realising it in the first place, and for making herself look a bit of an idiot in front of the man she cared about more than anything. As they stepped outside, Sherlock covered Molly with his coat. Molly felt her face go red once again. It was true that he could be a gentleman when he wanted to be, but it was a side that Molly had never had the chance to see herself. She looked up at him as they started to make their way to her home, her heart beating faster. It was true that Sherlock Holmes was a good looking man, but to Molly, the rain seemed to compliment his looks.

Eventually, they arrived at Molly's home. Sherlock kept a close guard on her, using his body as a shield to keep her from the rain. As she unlocked her front door, Sherlock watched over her. There was an awkward silence between the two until Sherlock broke the ice with two words: "Thank you."

Molly stopped in her tracks and turned to him with a look of confusion. "For what?" she asked.

"For everything you've done for me." he replied softly. He then lent in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Molly felt what seemed to feel like a shot of electricity shooting through her body. He'd kissed her on the cheek before, but this time it felt...different. "Goodnight, Molly Hooper." Sherlock smiled.

"Goodnight, Sherlock Holmes." she replied, restraining herself from throwing herself onto him again. His job complete, Sherlock started to walk back home. Molly watched him go before heading inside. As soon as she was in the warmth of her home, Molly leant back against the door, her head swimming with emotions about the time she'd spent with Sherlock. _Was all of that a dream, or did it all really happen?_ she thought. Her thoughts were interrupted by her cat Toby rubbing against her leg with his head. "I know; it's feeding time. Come on, buddy." she smiled, heading into the kitchen to get his food.

* * *

At the same time, Sherlock was walking back to Baker Street. Hidden in the shadows, a figure watched his moves very closely. He held a button on his headset to contact someone. "_General, I have confirmation. Sherlock Holmes is in London. Shall I commence the attack?_" he asked in Mandarin Chinese.

"_No. It is not the right time._" a woman's voice replied. "_We wait for the New Year exhibit. Continue your observations._" she ordered.

"_As you wish._" he replied.

The woman sat back in her chair and gazed at a photograph on her desk. It featured a middle aged woman; the previous leader of the Black Lotus Tong, General Shan. "_Do not worry. Your death will be avenged soon._" she vowed, her fingers trailing on the picture frame.


	3. A Case of Déjà Vu

In New Scotland Yard, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade sat at his desk. In his hands was a letter from Mycroft, who knew that the inspector was one of the few people that Sherlock could consider as an ally of his. It had been hand delivered to him by one of Mycroft's men. The letter spoke about his previous encounter with the Black Lotus Tong and that they were coming after him and John to get revenge. Lestrade sighed to himself. He knew that Sherlock had made enemies in the past, but he knew in his gut that someone was going to get seriously hurt this time.

"Sir, we've got a call. There's been a body found." a woman's voice suddenly piped up, interrupting his thoughts. The voice belonged to Sergeant Sally Donovan, one of his colleagues.

"Gender, location of body, and who found it?" he asked.

"Female, Lauriston Gardens, and two girls found it." she replied. Lestrade felt his stomach knot. This sounded very familiar to the last of a series of murders he had investigated with Sherlock a few years back. "Sir, are you alright?" Donovan asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Get a team ready and head to the crime scene. I'll meet you there; need to head to Baker Street first." Lestrade replied.

Donovan nodded, knowing why he was heading to a different location. "Let's get moving." she commanded to some officers.

* * *

Meanwhile, Sherlock sat in his flat, deep in thought about the first time he'd encountered the Black Lotus Tong. It had been an encounter that had almost cost John his life, and he knew that they would be after him to get their vengeance. At that moment, he saw flashing lights which meant only one thing; there was a murder. Sherlock turned as he heard footsteps running up to his flat, the footsteps belonging to Lestrade. "Where is it?" he asked.

"Lauriston Gardens; it's the same place where the body of Jennifer Wilson was found." Lestrade replied. "Donovan's gone ahead to secure the crime scene." he added.

Sherlock looked unhappy at the mention of Donovan's name. "You know how well Donovan and I get along." he grimaced.

"I know, but I'll make sure she stays out of your way. Will you and John come to investigate?" he asked.

Sherlock sighed. "Fine, it's better than being bored here all day." he replied.

"Thank you." Lestrade smiled, looking relieved that he'd agreed to help with the investigation. He made his way downstairs to head to the crime scene.

Sherlock sent John a text asking him to meet him at Lauriston Gardens. A smile spread across his face. "And so the game begins." he grinned to himself. He grabbed his coat and scarf and started to head downstairs. "Mrs. Hudson, I'm heading out. A new crime scene's appeared. It seems someone wants to settle the score." he called to Mrs. Hudson.

"Do be careful out there, Sherlock dear." Mrs Hudson called back as he walked by her flat.

"Why try to be careful? It's much more fun taking risks!" Sherlock smirked, a mischievous look in his eyes. As he left 221B Baker Street, he hailed for a cab and departed for Lauriston Gardens.

* * *

Eventually, Sherlock arrived at the crime scene. John was already waiting for him. "I don't know about you, Sherlock, but I'm getting a serious case of déjà vu here..." John shivered, looking a little worried.

"Oh relax, you're fine. Déjà vu is your body's reaction to the weakness of melancholy." Sherlock replied, dismissing John's worry. The two men headed upstairs to where the body was laying. Police officers were gearing up to investigate the crime scene. Sherlock noticed that Donovan was keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings. "Sergeant Donovan." he nodded in greeting.

"Holmes." Donovan nodded back in reply. "Well, this must bring up memories." she grinned.

Sherlock didn't reply as he went to investigate the body. "Everyone, move out of the way for a few minutes." Lestrade ordered his officers.

Once Lestrade had gotten everyone out of the crime scene, Sherlock knelt down next to the body of the woman lying dead before them. He noticed immediately that she was newly engaged from the shine from the ring on her ring finger. As he looked over her body, he made more deductions; she wore smart formal clothing that looked very modest, which suggested she probably worked with media as a producer or preferred to work behind the scenes. He noticed scuff marks on her nails which suggested she had tried to defend herself from the killer. But there was something else on the crime scene that he recognised immediately; a black lotus made from origami. "John, I need you to take a look at the body." Sherlock announced.

Pulling on some protective gloves, John knelt down and had a closer look at the woman's body. "Oh, sweetheart, what happened to you?" he whispered sadly. He noticed that she had bruising around her neck which was consistent with strangulation. Slightly turning the body, he noticed that someone had carved a lotus into her torso. "Oh, Jesus Christ..." he croaked, looking like he was about to be sick.

Sherlock looked unfazed, but seemed to be intrigued by the carving. "Now this is new..." he mused, having a closer look.

"That's all you have to say?! '_This is new...'_?!" John spluttered, looking alarmed at his friend's lack of concern.

"Don't you see the significance?" Sherlock asked. "The black lotus origami was a message left by the Black Lotus Tong last time. But the fact that the body has a carving of a lotus can only mean one thing; the motive for this game has changed. The killer's warming up for something bigger." he explained.

Lestrade walked in as soon as Sherlock had finished his main deductions. "We checked for anything that might give us some clues and found her purse and personal belongings in a rubbish bin. Victim's name is Annie Bridges. She lives in the Camden area." he announced. "Alright, what've you got for me?" he asked.

"She was newly engaged, going by the shine of her ring. She worked in media but preferred to work in production, from the look of her clothing. Her nails show signs of self defence, which means she tried to fight off her attacker." he began. "She has bruises on her neck, which means she was strangled to death. Her torso, however, tells a different story. The carving was made after her death, which means the killer must have wanted to leave a message...or was unsatisfied until he or she saw some bloodshed." he continued.

"So, what exactly are we looking for?" Lestrade asked.

"We're looking for a killer who has a taste for blood." Sherlock replied.

"Wait a second, Sherlock. Didn't Mycroft mention that the new leader of the Black Lotus Tong has a love for blood?" John remembered.

"Yes, that means if she's the killer, it'll only be a matter of time until her next victim..." Sherlock nodded, looking solemn for a moment. He then clapped his hands together. "We have a serial killer on our hands, brilliant!" he exclaimed. "Lestrade, locate anyone who knew Annie closely. John, contact Molly and let her know she has a new addition to St. Bart's morgue." he called, running downstairs.

John watched him go. "Now **that** part; that wasn't a case of déjà vu." he sighed as he dug out his phone.


	4. The Mysterious Lotus

At St. Bart's morgue, Sherlock watched as Molly slid out the body of Annie Bridges from where it was being kept. "Cause of death was asphyxiation. The carving of the lotus on her torso was made post mortem." Molly began as she presented her findings. "I also noticed she had a small blow to the back of her head. It was non-fatal, so the killer most likely took her by surprise. Under her nails, I found some small traces of skin flakes, so she must've known she was going to die so she knew she had to leave some sort of clue about who killed her." she added.

"The question is; how did she get to the scene of the murder?" Sherlock asked himself. He checked his phone for any texts from Lestrade or John and quickly slipped it back into his pocket upon noticing there were none.

Molly sighed. "Sherlock, can I ask you something?" she asked, sounding a bit afraid to ask him at all.

Sherlock looked over to her. "You're going to ask about the real reason for my escorting you back to your house the other night." he replied, having already deduced what she was going to say. Molly nodded meekly. "You were going through an emotional turmoil. As your friend, I thought it best to assist you in your time of need." he replied.

"I see..." she nodded, looking a little disappointed at his answer.

Sherlock raised his eyebrow. "You look disappointed. Was my answer not to your liking?" he asked.

"No, it's fine." Molly replied with a smile. "I should head back to work. I've got a lot of paperwork to do." she added, leaving Sherlock to his thoughts.

Sherlock watched her go, when his phone buzzed as John called him. "What have you found?" he asked when he answered his phone.

"Lestrade has found out the address of where Annie Bridges lived with her fiancé. He's also found her next of kin to notify them of her death. Her parents lived locally, and she was the youngest of 3 children." John answered.

"Good. Speak to Annie Bridges' fiancé and see what you can find out about her. Call me when you've done that." Sherlock replied. As soon as John had hung up, he started to make his way back to Baker Street.

* * *

Later, John was speaking to Annie's fiancé, James Stone. "I can't believe this has happened. Annie was the love of my life; we were childhood friends." James sighed sadly as he gazed at a picture of her he was holding in his hands. "I thought we'd get the fairytale ending we'd both dreamed about." he croaked, tears forming in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry for your loss." John apologised. "Did Annie say if there were anyone who wanted her dead, or if she had any enemies?" he asked.

"No, she mentioned none of that. She was the kind of girl who saw the good in everybody, popular in school..." James replied, wiping his eyes as he put the picture back. The room had many sympathy cards and flowers, which proved James was being truthful about Annie's popularity.

"What about anyone at work? Did she get along with them?" John asked, writing down some notes on a notepad.

James looked to be in thought. "Hmm, now that I think about it, she didn't get along with another reporter, Jess Fields. She does the entertainment news." he remembered. "But it was more of a petty argument. Jess wouldn't risk her career to kill Annie, she's too proud." he added.

John wrote down the details. "Alright, thanks for your help. Again, I'm so sorry for your loss." he nodded. He shook his hand and headed outside.

"Please do whatever you can to find the killer, Mr Watson. Annie's memory depends on it." James pleaded.

"We'll do whatever we can, Mr. Stone." John replied. As soon as James had closed the door, he took out his phone to call Sherlock. "It's me, James said that she didn't have many enemies as she was popular, but she had a sort of rival called Jess Fields." he began.

"Dull. There's something missing." Sherlock replied. He looked out of the window and saw a black car slowly driving away from across the street. "And I think I might know what that link could be." he added, grabbing his coat and scarf.

"Sherlock, what is it?" John asked.

"Get to Baker Street. I'll explain when you get here; could be vital to the case." Sherlock answered, ending the call. He made his way downstairs and saw the car drive away. He closed his eyes and quickly scanned his mind palace for a possible route, scanning over any shortcuts and traffic lights he could encounter and started to run after the car. Eventually, after running through many streets and roads, he caught up with the car. "Get out of the car!" he yelled as he banged on the passenger's side door.

"W-What's going on?! Are you with the police?!" the passenger exclaimed. It was a female university student, obviously from abroad and had come to study in England. Sherlock deduced that from the sound of her accent, she had come from Asia, most likely China.

"_My sincerest apologies, Miss. Please forgive my intrusion. Enjoy your stay in England!_" Sherlock apologised, speaking in Mandarin Chinese. The student walked away, muttering to herself in her native language that her family would hear of this event. Sherlock started to walk back to Baker Street. _That car was on the other side of Baker Street for a reason, but what for?_ he thought to himself.

* * *

When he got back to Baker Street, John was already waiting for him. "Where the bloody hell have you been?! Mrs. Hudson said you'd suddenly run off without an explanation where you were going!" he exclaimed in an angry tone.

"There was someone watching me." Sherlock answered in a calm tone.

John's face turned from anger to alarm. "Someone was watching you? Who was it?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I have a feeling it wasn't pure coincidence it was there." Sherlock replied, looking out of the window.

"Do you think it's the Black Lotus?" John asked, lowering his voice a little as he went to make some tea.

"It's a possibility. This could be their way of saying hello." Sherlock nodded. A large grin then appeared on his face.

"Don't do that look." John grimaced.

"What look?" Sherlock asked with puzzlement.

"That Cheshire cat look, it's creepy and it's not funny. It makes you look like you're going to kill someone." John replied, with a somewhat nervous expression.

Sherlock chuckled and looked out of the window. He then narrowed his gaze as something had caught his attention. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he muttered under his breath.

"What is it?" John asked.

"Come over here and tell me what you see." Sherlock replied. John came over to have a look. "Do you see it?" he asked.

"See what?" John asked as he tried to look for what the detective had spotted.

"Stand where I am and now look." Sherlock instructed him, moving aside.

John sighed and did what Sherlock told him to. Sure enough, he spotted what Sherlock had seen moments earlier; a lotus sprayed on a wall in black paint. "It's a lotus." he blinked in surprise.

"The same lotus that was found carved on Annie Bridges' body. Which means...?" Sherlock began.

John started to realise what Sherlock was trying to say. "The Black Lotus Tong has been here." he answered, finishing Sherlock's sentence.

Sherlock took out his phone to contact Mycroft. "They're here in London, getting ready to set whatever plan they have in motion. It's getting rather exciting now, isn't it?" he grinned.

* * *

That night, Molly was working the late shift. It was past 10pm and the only sign of light in the morgue was the desk light. Part of her wished to have someone other than Toby to welcome her home, but she knew that it seemed a bit boring compared to helping Sherlock with his cases. And even if he wouldn't show any romantic interest in her right now, the fact that she was of importance to him was all she needed.

All seemed quiet when there was a loud noise which sounded like something hitting against the door. The noise caused Molly to almost jump out of her skin in fright. "Hello? Is someone there?" she called. Slowly, she grabbed a torch out from her desk drawers and quietly walked out of the morgue to investigate. There was an eerie silence in the corridors, enough to send a chill up Molly's spine. Another loud noise made her jump. "Is that security? Hello?" she called, hoping for an answer. A cold breeze was blowing in the air. Molly turned her torch and noticed the chill was coming from the ladies' toilets. Torch in hand, she started to slowly walk inside. "I-If this is someone's idea of a prank, it's not funny!" she exclaimed, trying her hardest to sound brave. She reached her hand out to find the light switch and the small clicking of the switch lit up the room with light. Molly turned her head towards the mirrors and her eyes widened in shock, causing her to drop her torch in the progress. "Oh my God..." she croaked, her voice reduced to a whisper.

The sight that greeted her was a large lotus sprayed in black paint on the mirrors, there for all to see...


	5. A Second Murder

At the Watsons' home, Mary cooed over her baby daughter. "It's ok, little one. Mummy's here." she soothed, cradling the whimpering child close to her chest. She was a natural with children, and motherhood had seemed like second nature to her. On the wall nearby was a photo of the Watsons with their daughter shortly after her birth. John had been the devoted husband anxiously watching over his wife, holding her hand and acting as a coach when she needed him most.

The look of sheer joy and pride on his face at his child's first cries of life as she came into the world had been worth the many hours of labour Mary had gone through. As far as she was concerned however, her baby girl was Daddy's little princess from the moment he saw her on their very first ultrasound, even if they weren't sure of what gender their child was at the time. Gazing at that photo made Mary think about that special day...

_**FOUR WEEKS AGO...**_

John cradled his newborn daughter gently in his arms, taking in every bit of her features to become an everlasting memory. "Hello there, princess. I'm your daddy." he whispered gently to her, kissing her on the forehead.

Mary smiled at the sight of her husband and newborn child bonding. "She's got your nose." she giggled, placing her hand on John's knee.

John stroked his daughter's cheek, spellbound as she gripped his little finger tightly. "And she has her mummy's hair." he'd chuckled, stroking over the small wisps of blonde hair on his daughter's head. He looked over to his wife and leant over to kiss her. "I'm so proud of you, Mary." he smiled.

Mary smiled and then looked at the door that led to the delivery room. "I imagine a certain detective is eager to meet the new member of our family." she grinned.

"Knowing him, he's worn a hole into the floor from pacing around so much." John laughed.

"Maybe you should go and see if he's ok?" Mary suggested.

John thought for a moment, and seemed to imagine what would happen if he didn't go to see if his best friend was alright, a look of genuine concern on his face. "Maybe I should..." he agreed. He gently placed the baby into Mary's arms and went into the hallway. Sure enough, he saw Sherlock pacing backwards and forwards, something he'd somewhat expected to see. "Sherlock?" he called.

Sherlock stopped his pacing and turned to see John. "Ah, I was hoping to see you. I trust they're doing their job correctly?" he asked, looking somewhat calm, yet John noticed there seemed to be a hint of anxiety in Sherlock's eyes.

"Yeah, they were fine." John nodded. He was relieved the detective wasn't making a doctor's life a living hell by intimidating him with deductions. "I'm a dad." he smiled with pride.

Sherlock patted John's shoulder in congratulations. "I trust the delivery went well?" he asked. John nodded, unable to describe the happiness he was experiencing.

"Do you want to see her?" John asked. But no sooner had he asked him, Sherlock had already gone into the delivery room to see Mary. "No need to ask then." John chuckled as he returned to his wife's side.

Mary was sat up, resting her daughter in her arms. She smiled as Sherlock entered the room. "Been waiting long?" she asked with a big grin.

"Oh, not that long. The mind palace kept me preoccupied." he replied casually. He cast a gaze towards the tiny person in her arms. "Hello there, Miss. Watson." he smiled with a look of genuine warmth on his normally stoic expression.

"Wanna hold her?" Mary asked. She could tell that Sherlock had been eager to meet her daughter, even if he hadn't wanted to admit it himself.

Sherlock simply nodded and knelt down as Mary gently placed the tiny bundle into his arms. He seemed a little nervous, as he wasn't sure if he was holding the little girl correctly, but once he'd managed to get into a comfortable position, he seemed to be more confident. "You have some very special people as your parents, Miss. Watson; a woman who has quite literally changed her life to become the person she wants to be, and a man who has endured so much for one lifetime and has become all the stronger for it. They will be willing to fight tooth and nail to keep you safe; as I am sure they will do in the many years to come. I vow to always be there for you, in good times and in bad. My knowledge is at your disposal, and I vow this now to you, Miss. Watson, as you are going to be one very special little girl too." he whispered.

Mary's eyes watered with tears, her hormones making her react more emotionally than before. "Oh my God, Sherlock... That was...beautiful!" she sniffed with a teary smile as she tried to wipe her eyes.

John wiped his eyes too, feeling tears coming up. "It was, mate. It really was." he nodded. "We should ask him now, before I become a blubbering mess!" he added.

Sherlock was confused. "Ask me what?" he asked.

"W-Well, John and I were thinking about this for the last few months, and we knew you'd be the perfect man for the job." Mary began, as she tried to regain her composure.

"Is there a case that you need me to work on? It's been very boring in Baker Street lately." Sherlock asked.

"No, it's nothing to do with a case. We want you to be an important figure in our daughter's life, in case something happens to me and Mary." John replied.

"But I'm already in your daughter's life. I'm going to be visiting as much as possible." Sherlock blinked.

"We know, but if anything bad were to happen, we'd feel better knowing our daughter had someone to take care of her. What we're trying to say is that, to put it bluntly; we want you to be her godfather." Mary replied, making it as simple as she could. Sherlock looked stunned. "Sherlock, is something wrong?" Mary asked with a concerned look.

"Give him a second. He was like this when I asked him to be best man at the wedding." John replied, having seen this reaction before from his friend.

A few minutes went by, and Sherlock still looked stunned. "Ok, now that's starting to freak me out..." Mary gulped.

Sherlock blinked to bring himself out from being quiet. "Wouldn't Lestrade be more suitable for the role? A high functioning sociopath raising a child would certainly raise concerns." he asked, uncharacteristically looking a bit unsure.

"Well, yeah, but he's not my best friend. Besides, it'll be a valuable experiment." John smiled. Mary elbowed him in the stomach. "Ow! I mean, experience!" he corrected himself, rubbing where Mary's elbow had jabbed him.

"Well, if that is what you wish, then it would be my honour." Sherlock smiled.

_**PRESENT DAY...**_

Mary's thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing. Bouncing her daughter a little, she picked up the receiver. "Hello?" she answered.

"Mary, it's me. Something's happened at St. Bart's. Molly's in a right state." John replied, his voice sounding worried.

"Oh God, is she alright?!" Mary gasped.

"I'm not sure, but I'm on my way now to the hospital. It means I might be a bit late tonight." he sighed.

"John, it's alright. Molly's safety right now is most important. Stay safe, ok?" Mary replied.

"I will, I'll see you soon. Love you." John promised.

"Love you too." Mary replied, ending the call. After checking her daughter had calmed down and tended to her needs, she went back into the nursery to put her back in her crib. As she did so, she heard some loud noises from outside. "Damn cats, getting into the rubbish..." she muttered. She went to have a look and saw a figure fleeing from the alleyway. Having a bad feeling, Mary went downstairs to investigate.

In the corner of her eye, she saw a man slumped on the ground in the alleyway. Kneeling down, she went to check his pulse and froze when she realised there was none. Taking out her phone, she went to call the police. "I need to speak to Detective Inspector Lestrade. It's an urgent matter." she pleaded to the person who answered the phone.

At St. Bart's, John and Sherlock were checking on Molly and investigating how the black lotus had been sprayed on the mirrors in the ladies' toilets. John was speaking to some staff members asking if they had seen anyone suspicious at the time, while Sherlock went to see Molly. He laid an orange blanket across her shoulders. "For the shock." he explained when she turned to ask him what it was for.

"Thanks." she replied, obviously shaken by what she'd seen. She had a coffee in her hands, but Sherlock noticed her hands were unsteady.

Kneeling down next to her, Sherlock gently steadied her hands. "Don't want you to scald yourself, do we?" he asked. Molly felt her face go red when Sherlock's hands rested themselves onto hers.

Just then, Lestrade, who'd joined Sherlock at his behest, came off the phone. "We've got another murder on our hands." he announced.

"Where is it?" Sherlock asked as he stood up when Lestrade spoke.

The inspector gave a heavy sigh. "You're not gonna believe this, but it's next to where John and Mary live. In fact, Mary found the body herself." he replied.

Sherlock raised his eyebrow at this. "John, we need to head back to yours." he called.

John hurried over. "What is it? Has something happened to Mary?" he asked with a worried tone in his voice.

"No, but it seems the Black Lotus have struck again. And here I was thinking there wouldn't be another murder!" he replied.

"Sherlock..." John groaned in exasperation.

"Timing wasn't good?" Sherlock asked seeing the look on the doctor's face.

"Gee, what was your first clue?" John replied sarcastically. Sherlock went to the road and hailed for a cab. The two men climbed inside and made their way to John and Mary's.


	6. The Weakness of Sentimentality

As they came towards the street where the Watsons lived, Sherlock saw that the police had already cordoned off the area. "Stop here." he ordered the cab driver and climbed out to make his way to see the body. John hurriedly paid the driver and ran to join him. His main concern was his family's safety.

Mary was speaking to Lestrade when she saw Sherlock and John entering the crime scene. "Hey, guys! Fancy seeing you here!" she joked, trying to make light of the current situation.

"Lestrade told us what happened. Are you alright?" John asked anxiously as he gave her a hug.

"I'm fine, just a bit sad that somebody's been found dead right on our doorstep." she nodded, hugging her husband. "But never mind me. How's Molly? Is she alright?" she asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah, she's fine. A little bit shocked, but thankfully no harm's been done to her." John nodded.

Mary sighed with relief. "That's good to hear, I was worried something bad had happened." she breathed.

"Man's been identified as Arnold Peterson. Recently divorced and father of two." Lestrade announced.

Sherlock knelt down next to the body and started making his deductions. He dressed in a smart casual style, which meant he was probably a small business owner. There was a lack of a wedding ring, yet there was a faint tan line where a ring had used to be, which confirmed that he was divorced. His jacket had a small stain of sauce, so it was likely he'd eaten shortly before his death. His wrists seemed to have bruising and had fierce red lines across them, which most likely meant his hands had been tied up and he'd been held down by force. Slowly turning him, Sherlock saw that the shirt was stained with blood. "John, you need to see this." he called.

John heard Sherlock call his name and went to see what he was needed for. "What is it?" he asked.

Sherlock moved Arnold's shirt a little to give the doctor a better look. "Recognise this?" he asked, pointing at the pattern of very deep cuts in the form of a lotus on the deceased man's torso.

John had a look and immediately recognised the pattern. "That's the same carving we found on Annie Bridges' body." he realised.

"Right, but this man was alive when the cuts were being carved into him." Sherlock deduced.

"How can you be sure?" John asked.

Sherlock pointed at Arnold's wrists. "He was tied up and someone held his wrists down so he wouldn't be able to fight back. Once they were done, they left him to fend for himself." he answered.

John felt his heart sink at Sherlock's explanation and immediately knew what the cause of death was. "Poor sod died from blood loss; the adrenaline he was experiencing as he was running pretty much caused him to pump out more blood from his wounds." he sighed.

Lestrade came over to check on the detective's progress. "Alright, what've we got this time?" he asked.

Sherlock stood up. "His clothing style is smart casual, so he probably had his own business. The ring finger has a small tan line, which means that it wasn't him who initiated the divorce but his wife; he wanted to save his marriage and only took off his wedding ring when the divorce came through. His jacket has a small stain near the breast, so he must've eaten shortly before he died." he began. "His torso has the same lotus carving found on the previous victim, however his wrists have injuries consistent with being restrained and having his hands being tied up, which means this gentleman was alive when the carving was made." he continued.

"So, they both died in different circumstances?" Lestrade blinked.

"Different circumstances, but both have the same lotus carving. The killer is using different methods on each victim; the first victim was strangled to death, the second victim was put through what one can describe as torture and bled to death. This killer is not just looking to satisfy their urge for bloodshed, but loves to be in control." Sherlock answered.

John stood up. "So, you're saying that the killer is a control freak?" he asked.

"Not just a _'control freak'_, as you said. This killer knows how to inflict pain at its most strength; most likely saw it being used on others. And the lotus is a sign, a message to anyone who crosses their path." Sherlock replied.

John's face slowly drained of colour. "No... They wouldn't..." he croaked, unable to comprehend what the detective was implying.

"The Black Lotus Tong is looking for a specific target; in this case, **us**. John, they will use anyone they deem important to us." Sherlock replied in a deadly serious tone. "It was no coincidence this man was found near your flat; someone dragged him here once he'd died in order to lure you into this game they're playing." he added.

"Bloody hell... Now it makes sense. The lotus on the mirror that scared Molly in the ladies at St. Bart's, the body being found near John and Mary's flat..." Lestrade groaned in despair.

"Lestrade, get to Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson will need a guard should anyone come after her." Sherlock ordered.

"Right, I'll get on it immediately." Lestrade nodded. He grabbed his walkie-talkie and gave the nearby officers orders to process the crime scene and head to 221B.

Sherlock took out his phone and dialled a number. "Mycroft, I need you to give me a list of which artefacts the Chinese government are shipping into Britain for the Chinese New Year event." he began, once his brother answered.

"I assume you've gotten yourself into a rather large mess, brother mine?" Mycroft replied with amusement.

"The Black Lotus Tong will be after anyone they deem to be important to John or myself. Now, are you going to give me a list or not?" Sherlock demanded with irritation in his voice.

Mycroft chuckled. "Don't you remember what I told you about sentimentality? It is a weakness that clouds judgement, and it seems that you've forgotten that fact." he answered.

Sherlock clenched his fist a little, but restrained himself from saying what he wanted to say. "I do remember. I've underestimated the Black Lotus once. That's a mistake I'd rather not make again." he answered calmly.

"A list will be with you shortly. I'd hate to see you take your anger out on some poor innocent bystander, brother mine." Mycroft replied with a hint of smugness in his voice. No-one knew Sherlock better than he did, as much as Sherlock himself hated to admit it. He then hung up, leaving his brother to his thoughts on his next move.

Mary came over to see John. "What's going on?" she asked, quickly noticing the worry in her husband's face. "John, what is it?" she prompted.

"I'll explain indoors." John sighed. Once his wife had gone to the flat to check on their daughter who'd been left in the care of an officer specially trained to work with children, John turned to Sherlock. "Now what do we do?" he asked.

"We wait for the Black Lotus' next move. These murders were just the appetisers. They're really waiting for the main course." Sherlock replied coolly. He headed out into the road and hailed a cab.

"Where're you going?" John asked.

"An urgent errand I need to attend to." Sherlock answered as he climbed into the cab that arrived.

* * *

Sometime later, once the hospital had given her a clean bill of health after her scare, Molly was at home. She watched television and sighed. "Guess it's just you and me, Tobes...again." she smiled sadly at her cat who had curled up on her lap. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door, causing Toby to jump off of Molly and head into the kitchen. Molly looked at the clock on her wall. It had just gone midnight. _Who the hell is calling at this time of night? _she thought as she made her way to her front door. Still a little jumpy, she was hesitant to open the door immediately. "Who is it?" she called.

"It's Sherlock." a familiar voice replied. "I need to speak to you." he began.

Molly felt a sigh of relief escape from her body and opened the door, letting Sherlock in. "You made me jump." she laughed nervously as she closed the door behind him once he was inside. She then realised he wasn't laughing when she saw the solemn look on his face. "What is it?" she asked, becoming serious.

"Molly, a dangerous group of people are after John and me. They will try to use you to get through to me as they want revenge." Sherlock began.

"I see..." she nodded solemnly. "What do you need?" she asked.

Sherlock placed his hands on her shoulders, making sure he met her gaze. "I need you to be brave, because your life will be most certainly be endangered." he answered, his blue - green eyes looking straight into her brown ones.

"I don't understand. Why do I have to be brave?" Molly asked, looking confused.

The detective smiled, yet there was a hint of sadness in his expression. "Because you're the one who mattered the most." he replied, his voice now in a soft tone. He gently kissed her forehead and turned to go.

"Sherlock, wait!" Molly blurted out suddenly. He turned to her with puzzlement. "I-I just wanted to say thank you." she stammered.

Now it was Sherlock's turn to look confused. "Thank you for what?" he asked.

Molly smiled at him. "Well, for being so... nice to me lately. I know you'll probably think that it's just part of being sentimental, but... it was nice to receive that kind of attention from you." she replied shyly. "But I'm ok with it if it's back to normal once this is all over." she added hesitantly.

"Good. Goodnight, Molly." Sherlock nodded, opening the door.

"Goodnight, Sherlock." Molly replied, watching him go.

* * *

At the same time, John was explaining the situation with the Black Lotus Tong with Mary. "Mary, these guys are dangerous. This new leader of theirs is unlike anyone we've encountered. She could be as bad as Moriarty, maybe as bad as Magnussen... or worse than both of them." he explained.

"John, we're going to face this together. We both made vows on our wedding day, and I made a vow to always be by your side. You and our daughter mean more to me than anything in this world, do you understand?" Mary replied. She was determined not to let her husband go through this without her.

John sighed. He knew he'd been beaten. "Alright, but you have to promise me that you'll stay safe. In return, I'll promise to do the same. Deal?" he asked.

Mary nodded. "Deal." she replied, kissing him on the lips.

* * *

In a warehouse, two Chinese men were awaiting their orders. A webcam sprang to life on a nearby laptop. "_The time will soon be upon us. Gather the others and prepare for the final phase._" a young woman's voice ordered.

"_Yes, Madam Lien!_" the men exclaimed.


	7. Some Vital Clues

The following morning, Sherlock stood in St. Bart's morgue watching as Molly spoke to the children of Arnold Peterson. They were both in their late twenties and looked to be in well paid jobs. He watched as the deceased man's daughter crumbled in her grief, clinging to the pathologist who gently held her like a mother soothing her child. For a moment, she caught Sherlock's gaze and gave him a solemn look. The woman's brother held his sister's shoulder, yet there was pain etched on his face as well_._

_Assuming the role of the head of the family, even though he's dealing with grief as well..._ Sherlock deduced.

Once the Peterson children had left, Molly went back into the morgue. "I feel so sorry for that woman. She's due to be married in a couple of weeks, and now her dad won't get the chance to walk up the aisle with her." she sighed. Sherlock noticed that the young woman's situation had touched Molly, having lost her own father a few years ago.

"What were you able to find?" Sherlock asked, shifting the focus on Mr. Peterson's autopsy.

Molly cleared her throat to pull herself together. "Well, the carvings on his torso were made with a knife. The lines are smooth and have no sign of jaggedness, so it could've been something that'd been recently sharpened or has been barely used; possibly a dagger of sorts. There were some traces of chloroform near his lips, which means he was knocked out and taken somewhere else." she began, directing his attention. "The cause of death was blood loss from the wounds on the body." she concluded, gently pulling the white sheet that covered the man down to the torso.

Sherlock raised his eyebrow. "A surprise attack and chloroform being used means this killer is trained in how to take out enemies." he mused, and cast a gaze at Arnold's body. "This man wasn't important enough to warrant an assassination; his business was a market shop selling potatoes and other groceries... which means he was just something to be used as bait to draw my attention." he added.

Molly looked saddened at Sherlock's deductions. "Poor guy, he just happened to be walking home to mourn his failed marriage. Now he won't get to see his daughter get married..." she sighed, a lump forming in her throat.

Sherlock looked over to her. "Something's distressing you. Could be that the young woman's predicament has brought back memories of your own father's sad death. You'd always said that when you eventually married, you wanted him to be walking up the aisle with you to give you away to your future husband." he began, noticing the tears that were starting to form in her eyes.

The pathologist quickly rubbed her eyes. "I-It's not that. I've had a lot on my mind lately." she replied hurriedly. "I-I should get back to work; got a lot of reports to do..." she mumbled as she went to work. Sherlock sensed that he should be heading off and walked out of the morgue. Once he was gone, Molly covered her face with her hands and let the tears she'd been desperate to hold back finally flow freely. "Sorry, Dad... I know I shouldn't dwell but... I miss you so much." she whispered. Her thoughts drifted to Sherlock. _I know he sometimes can be harsh, but... why do I still let my heart betray me when he's around? _she thought.

* * *

As Sherlock left the morgue, he saw that Lestrade was waiting for him. "I figured I'd find you here. I've questioned the ex Mrs Peterson, but she's got a solid alibi; she'd been visiting some relatives at the time of the murder." he began. Sherlock noticed the inspector had a look of urgency in his expression. "There was a black lotus origami on Annie Bridges' body, right?" he asked.

"Yes, and I suppose you didn't come all the way here to remind me about that fact, did you Graham?" Sherlock replied. He had a suspicion that the police had found a clue that would prove vital to the case.

"It's **Greg**. You're still not going to get my name right, aren't you?" Lestrade sighed with irritation. "But that's not the point. We were going through a suitcase we found near where Arnold Peterson's body was found. It has his details on it in case it was possibly lost. But we went through the contents and spotted something interesting amongst the belongings of his that were inside." he began. He took out what seemed to be an evidence bag. Sherlock leant in to have a closer inspection, and his eyes lit up. Inside was a black lotus origami, confirming his suspicions.

"They left the origami inside the suitcase after he died. Now that's very interesting." Sherlock muttered. With a slight spring in his step, he started to head out of the Pathology unit. "I think this little chess game will soon be concluding." he grinned.

Lestrade sighed. "I'm never going to hear the end of this..." he muttered to himself before making his way back to headquarters.

* * *

Several days passed, but there was no sign of the Black Lotus making their move. This was no help to Sherlock, who had started to become incredibly bored. John knew he was itching to put an end to the gang's activities once and for all, and he and Mary were doing all they could to keep him preoccupied. Mycroft had personally seen to it that the artefacts from the Chinese government had been shipped in safely for the Chinese New Year event at the British Museum, and the homeless network that Sherlock worked with were keeping a watchful eye out for any sign of the Black Lotus. In the meantime, the detective took on a few minor cases in order to keep his mind active.

Until finally, after he'd solved yet another case, he got the sign he'd been waiting for...

* * *

John was at work in the clinic when he'd received a text from Sherlock;

_**Come to Baker Street immediately. The game is on. – SH.**_

After making a quick call to Mary to head to 221B to meet with Sherlock, he cancelled any appointments, making sure he'd apologised profusely for the sudden cancellations. Once this was done, John made his way to Sherlock's flat as quickly as possible.

When he arrived, Mary was already waiting for him, as well as Lestrade. Mrs. Hudson had taken the baby to her flat to look after her, with (much to the godfather's displeasure) the help of Philip Anderson, a former employee of New Scotland Yard. "What's going on?" John asked, noticing Sherlock's demeanour.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing!" Lestrade replied, looking towards the man who'd helped him out on many occasions.

Sherlock had been in deep thought since Mary and Lestrade's arrivals, having been in his mind palace to piece everything together. "The homeless network has finally given me a clue about their whereabouts. And I was just about to inform Mary and Lestrade about their cunning trick before you got here." he replied, directing them to a map of London on the wall nearby.

The three looked at the map on the wall very closely, hoping to see what Sherlock was talking about. "I don't get it, what are we supposed to be seeing?" Mary asked when she gave up looking.

"It's not about _'seeing'_; it's about _'believing'_." Sherlock replied with a sigh, giving his best friend's wife a pointed look. "Good God, it's like I'm talking to a brick wall..." he muttered under his breath. He took out a small plastic rod out from his cup of tea, which John assumed he must've dropped while in his mind palace. "They **want** us to find them; it's what they've wanted all along. Yet, they don't want to look too out of place to drawn unnecessary attention." he began.

"Ok, so they're trying to blend in. Why?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock pointed at some rail tracks on the map. "The last time the Black Lotus was here, they set up a sort of base here on this abandoned tramway. They were also _kindly_ assisted by Moriarty. He helped them find a way into London for a smuggling operation. This time, with a lack of a 'consulting criminal' to help them, they had to find their own way in." Sherlock explained.

"Ok, I can kinda understand the blending in thing, but how is this going to help us if we have no idea where they're based now?" John asked.

Sherlock gave him a sly smile. "As I said earlier, it's about _'believing'_. They want us to think we can't find them, yet they made one fatal mistake; they didn't count on my homeless network." he smirked. "One of the people in the network overheard some Chinese men speaking in Mandarin about a **'final phase'**. There was one name in particular that was mentioned: General Lien." he added.

"They mentioned their new boss? Wait... are you saying that she's somewhere in London, at this moment?!" John blinked.

"Exactly, and their 'secret base' is not exactly secret." Sherlock replied smugly.

"Let me guess; you've already figured that out?" Mary chuckled, sipping her tea.

Sherlock's eyes had a familiar twinkle in them; one that said that he was just about to solve this case in a blink of an eye. "Why yes, Mrs. Watson, I believe I have!" he grinned. He directed their attention to a part of the map with a photo of warehouses next to them.

"Some warehouses? What do they have to do with the Black Lotus Tong?" John asked.

Sherlock pinched between his eyes. "Think, John! Where do people go to store items when they are currently not in use or are due to be used? Where do we go when we need to retrieve items?" he asked, prompting his friend to realise what he was suggesting.

As if on cue, it seemed clear to John. "They're based in a warehouse. They were under our noses all along!" he exclaimed.

Having proven his point, Sherlock promptly finished his tea and went to grab his coat and scarf. "Finally, you believe instead of seeing!" he exclaimed.

"Wait, where are you going?" Lestrade asked.

"To the warehouse, I believe I owe them an overdue visit. John, get your coat." Sherlock answered as he left the flat.

John quickly got up from the chair he'd been sitting in and grabbed his coat. "I'll see you soon." he smiled at Mary.

Mary gave him a quick kiss. "Keep an eye on Trouble for me, would you?" she smiled.

"I'll try..." John replied, knowing that "Trouble" was impatiently waiting downstairs. He popped into Mrs. Hudson's flat to check his daughter was alright. "Daddy will be home soon, Princess." he whispered before kissing the baby on the head. He looked to Mrs. Hudson. "Do you and Anderson mind...?" he began.

"Oh, don't worry, dear. Your little one will be just fine. It'll be nice not to have Sherlock cooped up in that flat all day. Now off you go!" Mrs. Hudson beamed.

John carefully placed her into Anderson's arms. "I think she might be due a fresh nappy..." he smiled weakly.

"Oh, cheers... Cheers for that." Anderson grumbled. He grimaced when he checked the little girl's nappy, immediately heading into Mrs. Hudson's bathroom.

"John, come on! I'd very much like to get this game going!" Sherlock called from downstairs, the obvious impatience clear in his tone.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming! Just hold your horses!" John called back as he made his way down to join him. Once he was downstairs, the two men headed out to make their way to the warehouses. "Do you have any clue where we're going?" John asked.

"The member of the homeless network who overheard the Black Lotus is waiting for us. He'll lead us to them, or close enough to them." Sherlock replied as he hailed for a cab.

* * *

Once they'd arrived, they met up with the homeless man who led them to the warehouses. "We'll have to split up. It'll save time on having us decide which ones to look in. Text in case you find anything." Sherlock began.

John went on the west side of the warehouses and Sherlock went on the east side. For a while, neither of them found anything, until John found one that seemed very suspicious. Upon further investigation, he saw some boxes that seemed to have a symbol of a lotus; one that looked similar to tattoos that members of the Black Lotus Tong had on the heel of their right feet. He quickly sent Sherlock a text letting him know what he'd found.

As he was about to head to a safe place where Sherlock could easily spot him, a Chinese man had raised a knife to his neck, having snuck up behind him when John wasn't looking. "Stay where you are." he hissed in broken English.

"O-Ok, let's put the knife down. I don't mean to intrude." John gulped, hoping Sherlock would hurry up.

"A pleasant story, one I am sure will cost you your life." the man replied. Suddenly, there was a tap on his shoulder.

"Pardon me, sir." a familiar voice piped up. The man turned to see who it was, but was suddenly knocked out by the person head butting him. It had been none other than Sherlock. "Are you alright, John?" he asked his friend calmly.

"I just had a knife raised to my throat, what do you think?!" John exclaimed in anger.

"Oh relax, you're fine." Sherlock replied. He looked down to the unconscious man. "But our friend here may be of use to us..." he grinned.

John's face fell when he saw the grin on Sherlock's face. "You're not going to push him out of a window a countless number of times, are you?" he asked nervously.

"Throwing someone out of a window? That was so 2012." Sherlock chuckled as he remembered a past case involving a dominatrix by the name of Irene Adler; known professionally as The Woman. "No, I have something much more horrible in store for him..." he smirked.


	8. The Detective's Way

Some hours later, Mary arrived at Baker Street after being sent a text from Sherlock requiring her assistance. Once she'd left the baby with Mrs. Hudson, she made her way to Sherlock's flat. What she found was something she hadn't expected to see; her husband and his best friend standing before a Chinese man tied up in a chair with a rather menacing Mycroft Holmes right behind him. "Oh God, what've you done now?!" Mary groaned wearily.

"Ah, just the woman I needed to see! Thank you for coming at **such** short notice!" Sherlock beamed, flashing his 'Cheshire cat' grin as he came over to her.

Mary looked more exasperated than concerned that her daughter's godfather was holding a man hostage in his flat. "I hope Mrs. Hudson doesn't mind you having a man tied up in here..." she sighed.

"Oh, that can wait. I'm sure she's experienced a similar situation; considering her somewhat selective taste in suitors. Besides, John's '_good cop, bad cop_' style of interrogation he tried to involve me with was getting us nowhere. That's why you and my _beloved_ brother are here instead." Sherlock replied casually.

John came over to see what Sherlock and Mary were talking about. "Sherlock, when you said you needed some backup, I was hoping you weren't going to drag my wife into this!" he muttered.

Sherlock turned to his friend. "You forget that while she may appear as docile as any average human female, she has been able to keep a lot of her personal life in the dark. Need I remind you that she was a trained assassin in her former life?" he asked quietly, reminding him about the Magnussen incident.

John's expression became withdrawn. It was an incident he'd rather not need reminding of; especially about the secrets involving her shady past Mary had kept from him. Even though he'd decided not to find out more, John often wondered what his wife had used to be like before she'd met him. "Fine; we'll do it **your** way." he sighed.

"It's ok, John. I want to help you two, even if it's the smallest thing." Mary soothed, holding her husband's hand with a comforting smile. With his mind at ease, John left the room to go and check on Mrs. Hudson and his daughter. Once he was gone, Mary looked to Sherlock. "What do you need me to do?" she asked with a serious expression now on her face.

"Our friend here is being stubbornly tight lipped about his activities. John, in his failed attempt to interrogate him, had tried a calm and gentle approach, while I may have shouted at him... a lot..." Sherlock replied.

"Ah, I wondered why Mrs. Hudson asked me to tell you to keep it down." Mary mused.

"So, without any choice, and much to John's amusement, I had to call for Mycroft's assistance. While he may be a total sod, he is good at getting what he wants; as he did many times with Mummy when we were children..." he muttered.

Mary snorted in amusement, quickly covering her mouth when Mycroft cast a glance in their direction. "You call your mother _**Mummy**_?!" she grinned, trying desperately to contain her laughter and lowering her voice.

Sherlock looked a bit irritated, and seemed to be blushing a little; something that Mary would later inform her husband about to their amusement. "As I was about to say before you interrupted me, Mycroft is good at getting what he wants. Must explain how he managed to become the British Government." Sherlock continued, now regretting he'd even mentioned the name Mrs. Holmes went by with her sons privately to his best friend's wife.

"I'm guessing you need me to use some of my old skills against your new friend?" Mary asked, once she'd managed to compose herself.

"Unless you have a better suggestion, then yes. I imagine you've had to be very intimidating quite a few times in the past." Sherlock nodded.

Mary patted her friend's shoulder. "Don't worry, Sherlock. I'll have what you need as soon as possible. I learnt Mandarin Chinese when I was younger, but I may be a little rusty with some of the words." she reassured him. "Though, I think it'd be best that you not tell John about my language skills; I'd rather that he'd not know how I did interrogations." she hastily added.

"As I've heard John utter quite a few times on some cases; "My lips are sealed"." Sherlock promised. Mary gave him a grateful smile and then turned to the man tied in the chair. Satisfied that she would get the job done, Sherlock grabbed his coat. "Text me when you find out anything important." he called to Mary. Her answer was a single thumbs up, as she was keeping her eyes fixed on Sherlock's 'guest'. "And Mycroft, do try not to start a war with China. We certainly don't want World War III on our doorsteps, do we?" he added with a sly smile.

"Of course not, brother of mine..." Mycroft replied with a similar look.

* * *

Sherlock and John made their way to St. Bart's. Molly was in the morgue doing paperwork when the two men arrived. "Oh, I-I wasn't expecting to see you two until tomorrow." she blinked as they walked inside.

"Something came up, should be resolved by the end of the day." Sherlock replied coolly as he went to test some samples from a case he'd been working on.

John came over with a bag of shopping. "I brought lunch. Well, Sherlock chose it and I had to pay." he sighed. He handed Molly some sandwiches and went to make himself comfortable, having a feeling that they were going to be there for quite a while.

"Thanks." she smiled, putting the sandwiches on a nearby plate.

"You're welcome. How've you been?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

"I'm okay, better than the guys on the slabs are." she joked. John gave an awkward smile at her joke.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he sat down before an optical microscope. "Molly, what have I said about you making jokes?" he asked.

"Oh, right. Sorry..." she mumbled in embarrassment before taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Don't feel bad, not your fault that Mr. Sourpuss got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning." John smiled as he held her shoulder. He knew Molly meant no harm when she attempted to make others laugh. Sherlock briefly glanced over to them, looking unamused at John's comment before returning his attention to the samples.

Molly went to put some of the paperwork away. "So, what are you testing for this time?" she asked Sherlock with a curious expression.

"Just looking over something from a current case, I don't really trust the judgement of some of Lestrade's officers." Sherlock replied as he turned the focus knobs to get a clearer look on the sample he was currently looking at.

"Oh, I see. Do you need me to help?" she asked with a hopeful look.

Sherlock looked up from the microscope. "Yes, you can start by sorting the samples in alphabetical order." he smiled and went back to his investigations. Molly looked a bit disappointed that it was only a small job, but nodded as she started to do what the detective had asked her to.

"Alright, if you're going to start getting Molly to do some menial tasks like cleaning up after you, I'll go and see Lestrade for any updates about the Annie Bridges and Arnold Peterson cases." John sighed as he made his way to the door they'd come in through.

"Text me if you find anything." Sherlock replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

Molly waited for John to leave and then took a deep breath in order to prepare herself for what she was about to say. "Listen, Sherlock, I was wondering if you wanted to... go out for dinner sometime?" she began nervously.

"Molly, you should know by now that I consider myself married to my work and don't have time to pursue a romantic attachment." Sherlock replied, not bothering to turn to her.

"I know, but hear me out. I was thinking of maybe considering it as an experiment of sorts." Molly suggested.

This caused Sherlock to immediately sit up in his chair and turn to her. "What kind of experiment?" he asked, raising his eyebrow. If there was anything he liked other than working on interesting cases, it was an interesting experiment.

"It's a sort of social exercise than an experiment." Molly admitted, knowing the reaction that statement would get from Sherlock.

"Ah, who has time for social exercises anyway?" he replied flatly, turning back to the microscope.

Molly looked frustrated. _He's definitely not making this easy for me..._ she thought. "Well, how about this? One dinner; you'll be able to observe how people react, the standard procedures for social interactions and see if they're positive or negative. And at the end, we'll compare notes and see if the dinner was a success or a failure." she suggested.

Sherlock thought for a moment. He had to admit that social interactions wasn't one of his strong suits, and Molly was actually prepared to do things **his** way; then again, she always was. And he did owe her a lot for everything she'd done for him when he'd faked his death. "You do make a good case for that... Alright, though it goes against my better judgement, I'll accept your experiment." he replied.

Molly had to restrain herself from hugging him, but smiled. "Good. We can discuss more tomorrow if you want. Unless you're still working on your case, then we can do it whenever at your convenience." she nodded, making sure she stayed professional.

As if right on cue, Sherlock's phone pinged with a text from Mary. Sherlock picked it up and had a look at what she'd sent him.

_**Took me a while, but the little birdie finally sang. I'll explain more when you get back to 221B. – MW**_

_**Good work, on my way. – SH**_

"I look forward to hearing more about the ideas for your experiment. Good day, Dr. Hooper." Sherlock smiled. He put on his coat and scarf and headed out of the Pathology unit.

Once he was gone, Molly sank into her seat with a giddy smile on her face. _ I can't believe he agreed!_ she thought to herself. She was definitely not going to sleep tonight.

* * *

Once he got back to 221B, Sherlock saw that Mary was sitting on the sofa while Mycroft was in a chair, calmly sipping his tea. "So, how has our 'guest' been behaving?" he smirked.

"Well, at first he refused to talk, but I may have threatened to castrate him and have him awake the whole time." Mary grinned. "Once your brother demonstrated how serious I was being, he sang like a canary." she added, nodding towards a bowl of fruit which had been sliced up in many creative ways.

"That's my girl." Sherlock chuckled, giving her a hug.

"Yes, but my time would perhaps be of better use dealing with political matters instead of cleaning up my little brother's own mess." Mycroft replied nonchalantly.

Sherlock shot his brother a look and turned to Mary. "What did you find out?" he asked.

Mary became very serious. "Turns out this Black Lotus lot have been preparing for this for the last few years. When they'd discovered that you'd faked your suicide, it only drove them to ensure you suffered more than what Moriarty did to your reputation." she began. "Their boss has a real grudge against you and won't stop until she's made your life a misery." she added.

"Oh, that's nothing new. From the many death threats in the past few years, I've lost count of who wants me dead and who doesn't. What does she intend to do?" Sherlock asked, being very calm despite the fact that there was a woman out there who was trying to kill him.

"She plans to kill you on the day of the Chinese New Year event." Mary sighed.

"She's very welcome to try. Now, I suggest you head back home. My brother and I have some...business to attend to." Sherlock replied. Sensing that he wasn't kidding around, Mary got her coat and went downstairs to Mrs. Hudson's.

"Now then, what shall we do to our friend here?" Mycroft asked, getting up from his seat and placing his hand on his umbrella.

"I have a very good idea what we can do..." Sherlock smirked, casting his glance towards a nearby window.

* * *

Later, after having been called after someone had made a 999 call regarding an incident, John and Lestrade watched as an ambulance left Baker Street carrying a very bruised and sore Chinese man inside while some officers were trying to find out how he'd fallen in the first place. "I'm getting a feeling of déjà vu here. You wouldn't happen to know how he fell, would you?" Lestrade asked, turning his gaze to Sherlock.

"Oh, it all happened so fast, Inspector. I wouldn't be able to know where to start." Sherlock slyly replied with a smirk.

John shot a warning look to the detective. Once Lestrade had gone to speak with the other officers, he pinched between his eyes. "I thought you weren't going to throw a man out of a window again? It was "so 2012", remember?" he asked, his voice lowered to a whisper.

"I did, but who says that it was **me** who threw him?" Sherlock smirked as he headed back inside. John let out a weary sigh and went to hail a cab home.


	9. Where His Heart Lies

Some days later, the city of London was in a buzz as the British Museum finally hosted the special event for the Chinese New Year. Mycroft had secretly sent some of his men undercover in order to ensure those attending were safe and blissfully unaware of the devious scheme the Black Lotus had been preparing.

At the same time, Sherlock and John had been preparing as well. The two (or rather Sherlock) had made a plan where the detective would try to make sure he would be noticeable when he would be in the museum so the gang would know he was in a vulnerable position, and he was sure that it would work; it would mean that the gang would have no choice but to expose themselves to the public eye.

_**DAYS EARLIER, 221B BAKER STREET...**_

"Mate, that has to be the most... **stupidest **plan I've ever heard you come up with." John admitted when he'd heard what the detective's course of action was.

"Not quite what I'd imagined you'd say, but thank you for your feedback." Sherlock replied.

John let out a sigh. "And what if the Black Lotus decided to come barging in, guns blazing? You're likely to get killed by a stray bullet!" he exclaimed.

"Mycroft's men will be scattered amongst the crowd. If they see someone looking suspicious, they'll inform my brother, who in turn will inform me." Sherlock answered. "Honestly, did you think I'm going in unprepared?" he asked as he started to make his way to the flat's kitchen.

John knew better than to give his friend more ammunition, so decided to change the subject. "So, what's this I hear that you're going on a date with a certain Molly Hooper?" he grinned.

Sherlock immediately stopped in his tracks. "It's an experiment. We both agreed on some conditions, she gave a good argument and I agreed to take part." he coolly explained.

The doctor's grin now spread from ear to ear. "You're right, a fancy dinner in an expensive restaurant with just the two of you socialising and comparing notes; absolutely **not** a date!" he chuckled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"And what, if I may ask, would **you** describe it as, Dr. Watson?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow. He didn't like the amused expression on his friend's face.

"Come on, Sherlock! Think about it! For as long as I've known Molly, that girl's had a crush on you for years! You, on the other hand, have very rarely shown her any nice behaviour; though in fair play to you, you did have her help you fake your death." John began, showing a hint of sadness when he thought back to Sherlock's jump from St. Bart's. "Now all of a sudden, you're taking her out to dinner! If that doesn't sound like you're taking her out on a date, I don't know what will!" he added.

Staying as emotionless as he could, Sherlock turned on his heel and resumed heading to the kitchen. "Perhaps it has not occurred to you that while I do not wish to pursue any sort of romantic attachment of sorts with her, I do value her expertise in the field of pathology?" he shot back.

"Well, **now** maybe. But in the past, you've been nothing but a complete dick towards her! There's been a few times where I've had to hold myself back from punching you for the things you'd said to her." John replied.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "As I mentioned before, it is only an experiment. Sentimentality is a weakness that I cannot allow to distract me from my work." He answered.

John let out an exasperated sigh. There was no use talking to him, but part of him had a glimmer of hope that spending time with Molly would actually get the detective to start to behave more...humanlike; if he was even capable of that.

_**CHINESE NEW YEAR, BRITISH MUSEUM...**_

John looked around, keeping a watchful eye on his friend as he made his way into the exhibit. "I don't like this, Sherlock. It feels like we're heading into a trap." he muttered over the phone.

"If there was a trap, it's not a very good one. See that man in the cap and dark sunglasses?" Sherlock asked, casting a quick glance in the direction of a man fitting the description near the first piece on display.

Craning his neck, John spotted the man in question. "Yeah, why?" he asked.

"He's sending a text every five seconds. From the time it takes for him to send a text and receive a reply, it can mean only one thing; he's their lookout." Sherlock explained.

"Well, at least Mary agreed to be undercover as a visitor. Though, I don't appreciate you dragging her into the plan as well." John sighed, spotting his wife nearby acting as if she had become fascinated by one of the artefacts. "A shame Molly couldn't come either. She would've loved to take on an active part in a case." he added with a hint of smugness in his voice.

Sherlock let out a sigh of annoyance. "Yes, unfortunate..." he replied.

* * *

Meanwhile, while others were enjoying their day, Molly was in the Pathology unit, finishing up the latest autopsy. She had a quick look at a nearby clock and noticed it was on the dot for her lunch break. _Finished in time for lunch! I should start timing myself to try and get extra time... _she thought to herself with an amused smile. Taking off her gloves and grabbing her purse, Molly checked the lab was safely secured while she was away and started to make her way to lunch.

As she made her way down a flight of stairs however, someone grabbed her from behind, covering her mouth with a cloth. "You're coming with me, Dr. Hooper." a man's voice hissed to her. Molly noticed there was an accent to his voice, most likely Asian, and desperately tried to fight him off her.

"Let me go!" she tried to yell, but her head was starting to get fuzzy and her eyelids were getting heavier. _Chloroform! Have to...get...help... _she thought as she tried to stay awake. With the last of her energy, she managed to tap out a quick message with one hand and pressed send before losing consciousness.

The man dragged Molly to a nearby fire exit and carried her to a car that was waiting nearby. He signalled the driver to start moving and they made their escape.

A man in a passenger seat took out his mobile and pressed a number on speed dial. "_Madam Lien, we've got the girl._" he announced to the person on the other end.

"_Excellent, now we just need the last two pieces for our jigsaw to be complete._" she answered.

* * *

At the same time, Sherlock's mobile pinged with the sound of an incoming text. Taking it out of his pocket, he had a look and noticed it had come from Molly. As he read it, he immediately knew she was in danger as it comprised of one little word:

_**Help.**_

_**Stay calm. Where are you? – SH**_

Just minutes after he sent his message, his mobile pinged again. Half expecting it to be from the pathologist, he immediately went to reply, but noticed the writing style was very different from Molly's.

_**Good afternoon to you, Mr. Holmes. If you are concerned for the woman's safety, rest assured that she is safe...for now.**_

_**And who am I speaking to at this moment? – SH**_

_**All in due time, Mr. Holmes... But for now, I will allow the woman to recover from her little nap. You will see her again in a while.**_

Knowing that this meant that Molly was most likely unconscious and had probably been kidnapped from St. Bart's, Sherlock took out his phone. "John, you need to get your gun." he announced quietly.

"Sherlock, is something wrong? Why're you talking so quietly?" John asked.

"The Black Lotus has revealed their ace... They've got her, John." Sherlock sighed.

"Her?" John blinked, but then slowly it dawned on him about who Sherlock meant. "Molly..."

Hanging up, Sherlock started to head into a quieter section of the museum. Even though he wasn't showing it physically, emotionally he was in turmoil. Molly was in danger, and even though he'd been somewhat anticipating it, he knew that the blame would be most likely be shifted to him for not doing enough to protect her.

_They wanted to strike me where they believed my "heart" lies; Molly... That was their gravest mistake..._ he thought to himself. But as he walked, he realised that he was thinking... sentimentally. _What am I doing? I shouldn't be thinking like this. The case is more important... _ he chastised himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ping of another text. Taking the phone out, he narrowed his eyes when he saw what it read;

_**The woman is awake. She talks of you inflicting punishment upon us; very loyal towards you. If you want to see her alive again, you will meet us at the docks at 9pm tonight. Come alone.**_

Sherlock knew that this meant that a final confrontation with the Black Lotus was imminent. He heard footsteps and turned to see Mary and John running towards him.

"There you are! We've been looking all over the museum for you!" Mary panted.

"You alright, mate?" John asked, noticing Sherlock was wearing a grim expression. Sherlock handed him his mobile, giving both Watsons a chance to see the text. John read through the text and looked up at Sherlock. "What does this mean? Why do they want to see you alone?" he asked.

"I believe our "new friend" General Lien wants to meet me face –to – face." Sherlock replied.

"Wait, y-you're not really going through with this, are you? This has to be a trap, I'm sure of it!" Mary exclaimed.

"Unfortunately, Mrs. Watson, I appear to not have any say in this matter. If Molly is to be returned safe and well, I will have to see the Black Lotus tonight." Sherlock answered.

"Well, you're not going to go there alone! Somebody's got to be there to cover you if you manage to piss them off." John replied.

Sherlock gave John a sly smile. "I know. That's why you and Lestrade will be my backup." This caused Mary to heave a sigh of relief.

"Then I'd better bring my gun then." John nodded.

* * *

Later that night, Sherlock arrived at the docks. Calmly making his way to the meeting spot, he looked around. "You said you wanted to see me alone; here I am. I believe you have someone held here as a hostage." he called. Hidden nearby, John and Lestrade listened in, waiting for the first sign of trouble.

Suddenly, bright lights surrounded him and the sound of guns being taken out of holsters resounded. "_Stand down!_" a woman called in Mandarin. The guns were immediately lowered. Sherlock covered his eyes to see the faint silhouette of a figure step out from behind some storage units to greet him. The voice sounded very familiar... "Remember when you told me to _"enjoy my stay in London"_? I remember it as if it were merely yesterday." the woman asked, now speaking in English fluently.

Sherlock then had a smirk on his face. "And I see you didn't tell your parents." he replied. The woman who was standing in front of him was in fact the university student he'd encountered after chasing the black cab. But this wasn't the same woman he'd seen; she'd been a disguise for the real person; someone who was cold, calculating with an endless thirst for bloodshed.

"You assume correct, Mr. Holmes. I'm surprised that you remember me; the man lives up to the legend." she chuckled. She then became serious in a matter of seconds. "I've been waiting for this moment for a very long time." she snarled, her voice dripping with venom.

Sherlock then raised an eyebrow and then placed his hands into his jacket pockets. "So...General Lien, I presume?" he asked.


	10. The Daughter of Red's Tale

John listened quietly in the shadows of some cargo storage units, waiting for the first sign of trouble. At the mention of General Lien's name, he briefly turned his attention to the scene unfolding before him, peeking through the gap between the units so he wouldn't be detected. With the brightness of the lights affecting his vision, he could vaguely make out the figure of a young woman. _That can't really be her..._ he thought, not believing at first that this was really the woman who was the leader of a gang of criminals; but then he thought back to when he learnt about Mary's past and chastised himself for letting himself be fooled by the woman's looks.

"You are correct once again, Mr. Holmes." Lien suddenly spoke. She circled the detective slowly, like a lioness circling her prey. "I imagined you to be shorter... but the eyes, they are unmistakable." she chuckled.

"I take the advantage of having a modest sense of style and a somewhat short friend." Sherlock answered coolly.

Having taken in his features, Lien walked back to where she was originally standing. "And you are punctual as well. Good. I prefer my foes to be on schedule." she began. Taking a dagger out, she slowly trailed her tongue along the blade.

Sherlock watched the woman closely. His eyes flicked around, taking in the smallest details as he guessed what her next move was. "Your dagger, it was a gift from someone dear to you. It's been used recently; the blade has smudges from when it's been cleaned. The way you handle it shows your confidence in its effectiveness." he began.

Lien turned her attention to Sherlock. "Do continue, Mr. Holmes. I find your deductions to be quite fascinating." she smiled.

Raising an eyebrow, Sherlock knew that she was most likely trying to catch him off guard. "You dress far too modestly for a killer; most likely you want to trick your enemies into thinking you mean no harm, but we both know it's quite the opposite." he added, noting Lien's current outfit. "Now then, your character overall; you've been trained how to think and act like a killer, and rather well I might add. Your posture and stance shows you've been taught how to behave like a woman should, yet you're not one who hates to get her hands dirty; you savour the thought of it. Now, the red lipstick, it's your choice as it's one of the most symbolic colours in China and also because it reminds you of the blood you've spilt throughout your life." he continued.

Lien chuckled and made her way towards Sherlock. "I am most impressed. The Black Lotus could use a man with your...skills amongst its ranks." she purred, trailing her hand along his cheekbone.

"An interesting offer, but I decline; makes for too much stupid to contend with." he answered in a deadpan tone.

The general gave a small sigh. "That is a shame. It just means you'll have to be the next person to satisfy my blade's never-ending hunger for blood." she replied in a mocking tone. She then paused to consider her thoughts. "But what would I do with the girl? It would be an even greater shame if something were to happen to her." she taunted with a cold smirk.

"But if you killed me, you'd never be truly satisfied once you had your revenge. That's what it's been all about, hasn't it?" Sherlock asked suddenly, now starting to realise who Lien was. "That dagger was given to you by someone very dear to you. Not a lover, your killings would've been classed as crimes of passion... No, this was driven by someone in your family. Not a sibling then, the murders were far too aggressive. Which means that this was driven by love for a parent." he deduced.

"Be quiet!" Lien snarled, her smirk immediately vanishing and being replaced by a look of murderous rage.

The detective smirked back. "Ah, it looks like I may have hit a nerve. So, was it your father who gave you all of your killer lessons, or... your mother?" he asked, noticing she'd now exposed her true self before him.

"I said: **BE QUIET!**" Lien shouted. The gang members slightly shrunk back, most likely in fear.

"I see... You got to the top not because of seducing higher rank members, you inherited it from your mother." Sherlock mused, noticing the members' expressions.

Growling, Lien turned away, knowing he'd locked onto a painful subject. "My mother was my hero... and she's dead because of you and your friend, John Watson." she hissed, her voice sounding like it was close to breaking.

In the shadows, Lestrade and John exchanged looks. "What's she on about?" Lestrade whispered.

"Your guess is good as mine, Lestrade." John shrugged.

Sherlock chuckled a little. "Well, John and I do love making the most interesting of enemies." he admitted.

Lien turned to Sherlock. "Don't act coy with me, Mr. Holmes! My mother was the previous leader of the Black Lotus Tong, and she died after her encounter with you." she snarled, her voice full of hatred.

John's face paled when he realised who Lien was speaking about. "That can't be possible..." he muttered to himself.

"John, you okay? You've gone white as a sheet." Lestrade asked.

John looked over to Lestrade. "This woman's mother was General Shan... the gang's previous leader." he gulped.

Lien turned to face the ocean. "My mother was the most extraordinary person I've ever had the honour of knowing, and being her child is an even greater honour." she began.

* * *

_**SHANGHAI, CHINA, THIRTY YEARS AGO...**_

A midwife knelt down as a young woman screamed out in agony. "_I can see the head. You're doing well, General Shan._" she soothed.

"_Please, get this child out of me!_" Shan yelled in pain. She gripped onto the bed sheets, her nails quickly digging into them. As another contraction struck her, she began to wonder if she had made a mistake in allowing her pregnancy to continue.

It had all been a moment of weakness on her part; she had gone undercover for an operation and met a handsome man who she took as a lover as part of her disguise. Shan knew that she had to keep her emotions in check, but she'd realised too late that she had developed a genuine attraction to this man and they were wed in a small ceremony after a yearlong courtship. Sadly, six months into their marriage, Shan's husband was killed in a tragic car accident. While she mourned, Shan made the discovery that she had fallen pregnant with his child. Instead of terminating the pregnancy so she would be able to resume her activities with the Black Lotus, Shan chose to keep the child so that she would have an heir to her title, and also as a reminder of the man she lost.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an overwhelming urge to push, and eventually the sound of a newborn's cries could be heard in the delivery room. The midwife inspected the child and her face immediately fell. "_It is a female._" she announced quietly.

Shan struggled to sit up in bed. The midwife placed the baby girl into her arms. As she drank in her child's features, Shan felt nothing more than an overwhelming sense of pride. While she knew that a boy was more favoured traditionally, all that mattered to her was that she had an heir. "_I will keep her._" she announced.

"_B-But, my lady..._" the midwife stammered in shock.

"_Enough. My decision is final._" Shan replied calmly. She cast her gaze to her newborn daughter who had drifted off to sleep in her arms. "_My daughter will become the next leader when I am gone. There is something special about her, and she will become my legacy. And to that end, I will name her __**Lien**__, in honour of the Black Lotus Tong._" she announced.

* * *

As the years passed, Lien grew into a strong and healthy child. She had more than lived up to Shan's expectations, having become a skilled and efficient fighter. The Black Lotus had even started referring to her as Lady Lien when addressing her, even though she was still a child. As a teenager, she became more than willing to participate in the gang's operations. Shan was very proud when she received news that her daughter had completed her first kill.

One evening, Shan and Lien sat drinking some tea together. "_You have grown into such a beautiful lotus, my child._" Shan smiled.

"_Thank you, Mother. But, if I am honest, the credit should really go to you._" Lien replied, taking her mother's hand and kissing it as a show of respect.

Shan rang a bell for a servant to enter the room. "_Lien, I have a special gift for you._" she began. The servant bowed and handed an intricately wrapped item to Shan, who in turn handed it to her daughter.

Lien carefully removed the wrapping of the item and gasped in delight. "_Mother, it's...beautiful!_" she exclaimed, taking out a magnificent dagger to admire it.

"_It is believed to have belonged to a member of the Han dynasty. But, I know that it would be more magnificent in your hands._" Shan explained, watching her daughter's reactions to receiving her gift with a smile.

"_I will guard it with my life. Thank you, Mother._" Lien replied. She gazed at the blade and smiled at the light reflecting off of it.

* * *

_**SOMWHERE IN BEIJING, 2010...**_

Years passed, and Lien had grown into a confident woman who had more than shown that she was as good as any other member of the Black Lotus. Shan had been recently giving her lessons in leadership to prepare for her takeover as leader, and Lien had started to make her mark in the criminal underworld. Lately, the Black Lotus had been in meetings with a mysterious man known only as M, and Lien had started to have a bad feeling. This led to the gang's newest scheme; smuggling ancient Chinese artefacts into London to sell.

When Shan was due to leave for England, Lien was there to see her off, having been told to stay behind in China to ensure the gang was running smoothly. "_Mother, are you sure that we can trust this M man? I have a very bad feeling about this..._" she asked with anxiety.

"_Lien, I understand that you are worried, but do not concern yourself. M has full confidence in our skills._" Shan reassured her.

"_General, the men are ready to go._" a man announced.

Shan nodded and gave her daughter a hug. "_I will be home soon, Lien._" she whispered.

"_Good luck, Mother..._" she whispered back. She gave her a bow as she watched her mother go and then turned to the men who were staying behind. "_What are you all standing here gawking for? Get back to work!_" she barked.

* * *

Some weeks later, Lien waited for any news from her mother. She was in her office when a man walked in looking solemn. "_Yes, what is it? What do you want?_" she asked, looking up from the desk with an impatient look.

"_Lady Lien... I have some news. It regards...your mother._" he began.

Lien slowly rose from her desk. "_No... D-Don't say it... Please..._" she begged, a lump forming in her throat. She clung to the desk, trying to stop herself from crumbling to the floor.

The man sighed. "_Lady Lien... There's been an incident. Most of our men were killed, and... I'm sorry to tell you this, but... your mother's body was found just hours ago._" he announced solemnly, knowing that he was about to tear the young woman's world apart forever. "_There was a direct shot to the head and it seems it was an instant death._" he continued.

Lien's legs finally gave in and she sank to the floor, screaming "_Why?!_" over and over again. Hot tears of anguish spilled down her cheeks. Thinking back to when she'd last saw Shan, it broke her heart now knowing that it would be known as the last time she would ever see her mother alive again.

Once her mother's body had been returned to China, Lien somehow managed to find the strength to start planning the funeral. She wanted it to be a private affair, as she wanted at least one chance to say goodbye and thank her for everything she'd done for her. After it was done, Lien knew that the responsibilities of leadership rested on her shoulders. "_Someday, Mother... I will get justice for you..._" she vowed to herself.

* * *

_**PRESENT DAY...**_

Lien turned to Sherlock. "My mother was the only person in this world that mattered to me, and it's because of you and your friend that she is no longer here." she hissed.

"As much as I enjoyed your little story, I believe you wanted to see me for something else." Sherlock replied.

Lien gave him a dark look and nodded towards a man who brought out her hostage. "As you can see, she is unharmed...for now." Lien announced.

Molly was forced onto her knees. "Sherlock, you have to go! She's a complete psychopath!" she yelled, pleading for him to leave before it was too late.

Lien then looked towards the storage units. "You can come out of hiding, gentlemen. I promise I will not bite." she called. Right on cue, some men came out of hiding behind John and dragged him and Lestrade to where Sherlock was.

"John! Greg!" Molly exclaimed.

"Are you alright, Molly?" John asked. She nodded in response.

"Now, I have all the pieces of the puzzle in one place. And at last, it's time to put the jigsaw together." Lien smiled. "But the real question, Mr. Holmes, is this; which one of your friends should die first?" she asked, drawing her dagger. "Will it be the policeman who follows you blindly? The army doctor who you take along on your many adventures? Or...will it be the pretty pathologist, who has more love for you than anything in this world?" she smirked, pointing the dagger to each person she mentioned.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and then smirked. "You forgot one other person, General Lien." he answered.

"Oh? And who would that be, if I may be so bold enough to ask?" she replied, raising an eyebrow.

The detective exchanged looks with Lestrade, John and Molly and dropped his smirk before saying just two words: **"Vatican cameos!"**


	11. Confrontation By The Pool

As soon as John heard Sherlock's code for "battle stations", he immediately sprung into action, restraining one of Lien's men and disarming him. Lestrade radioed for backup officers as he fought off some others. A man ran at Sherlock, who saw him coming in time to quickly deduce the best spot to counterattack him with. "That was barely worth your time." he smirked after winding the man with a single punch in the gut. Lien growled and chose the momentary distraction to try to escape. Seeing that Molly's hands had been tied up, Sherlock knelt down and started to untie her. "Are you alright?" he asked, focusing his attention to her bonds.

"Yes, I think so." Molly nodded. She was secretly giddy that Sherlock had come to her rescue.

"Sherlock, there's more of them coming!" John yelled.

Once he'd freed her, Sherlock turned Molly to face him. "Find a safe spot to hide. I will be back for you momentarily, but you need to consider your safety for now." he ordered.

Molly nodded in understanding. "Please be careful." she pleaded before running off to get to a safe hiding place.

Lestrade scanned for how many men there were who worked for the Black Lotus against the extra officers he'd radioed for. "I don't like our odds, Sherlock. Even with the other officers around, we're sitting ducks!" he called.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that just yet. I believe we will have some more backup in a matter of moments." Sherlock replied, seeming quite confident that they would be victorious despite being hopelessly outnumbered.

As if right on cue, some Black Lotus members were suddenly taken down. The assailant climbed to their feet and smiled a familiar smile to the men. John's eyes widened in surprise when he realised who it was. "Mary, is that you?!" he exclaimed.

"Did I miss the party?" she asked sweetly. She was dressed in dark clothes and was wearing a warm black hat, having managed to sneak inside without detection.

"No; in fact, I believe you are right on schedule, Mrs. Watson." Sherlock replied.

John exchanged a quick smile with his wife, but then had a thought. "Who's taking care of the baby?" he asked.

"Oh, I figured she'd get to spend some quality time with 'Uncle' Mycroft. I don't think he's ever held her once since she was born." Mary beamed.

"A fittingly cruel ordeal for my brother, I'm sure." Sherlock chuckled, imagining many terrifying scenarios the older Holmes brother would be currently experiencing with the Watsons' daughter.

* * *

Tucked down behind a crate, Molly watched her friends defend themselves against the Black Lotus. She desperately wanted to help them, but knew the detective wouldn't be happy if she put herself in danger during her own rescue. Suddenly, there was the sound of a safety catch clicking behind her, causing the pathologist to freeze on the spot.

"Stand up, **now**." Lien barked, holding a gun in her hand. Molly slowly rose to her feet, trying to stay calm despite having a gun pointed at her. "Now, start walking." Lien hissed, still holding the gun.

"You won't get away with this... Sherlock **will** stop you." Molly vowed, looking back at her with a defiant look.

The general chuckled coldly at Molly's statement. "Oh, I don't think that will happen. You see, this is a special game of chess we are playing; and **you**, Dr. Hooper, are Mr. Holmes' queen piece." she smirked. She pointed the gun into the back of Molly's head. "I could shoot you now, but that would bring the game to a premature end." she mused.

Molly smiled softly to herself. "I guess you really don't know me. I'm not his queen, or anything special. I don't even think he considers me that way at all." she replied quietly. _But, I can always dream..._ she thought.

"That's enough of your chatter. Keep walking." Lien growled as she jabbed the gun sharply into Molly's back. The two women continued to walk, until Molly noticed there was a black car waiting for them. As they arrived, Lien opened the door and forced her hostage inside. "_Drive, now!_" she ordered the driver. The car sped off, as Molly glanced out of the window, hoping Sherlock would come and find her.

* * *

Meanwhile, Sherlock, John, Mary and Lestrade had managed to fight back and assist with the roundup of the Black Lotus members. "Good thing Scotland Yard has a portable office just in case. I think we're going to need a lot more room at the station." Lestrade joked.

Sherlock looked around. "Yes, I imagine so." he answered, not paying much attention to what Lestrade was saying.

"Sherlock, are you ok?" John asked, noticing there seemed to be a look of worry on his friend's normally stoic face.

"The general is not here...and neither is Molly..." Sherlock replied quietly. He started to have a look around and soon found two sets of footprints in a nearby beach; one that seemed to match slacks which Sherlock deduced quickly to be Molly's, and the other set were from heels and belonging to Lien. Following the trail, he came to some tyre marks in the road.

John came running after him. "Did you find her?" he asked, trying to catch his breath.

"Look at these tracks and tell me what you see." Sherlock answered, directing the doctor's attention to the tracks.

John knelt down and took a look. "Well, they're tyre tracks." he began.

"Well, obviously, but what do you **see**?" Sherlock asked with a hint of irritation in his tone.

John sighed and looked closer. "Well, uh... They looked like they left in a hurry, and they were headed towards the city." he replied.

As John spoke, Sherlock's mobile buzzed in his pocket as he received a text. His eyes narrowed as he read the text:

_**Do not concern yourself for the girl's safety. We have taken her for a swim. If you want to see her again, meet us at the following location.**_

Attached to the text was a small map with an address included. Sherlock looked closely and he clenched his fist. "Sherlock, what is it?" John asked, noticing the detective was being unusually silent.

"Recognise this address?" Sherlock asked, handing him his mobile.

John took a closer look, and swallowed hard. "That's the pool where Moriarty first revealed himself to us..." he croaked.

"She's revealing her ace; she wants to confront me where I faced one of my greatest enemies because she feels that she has nothing to lose; all because she wants some revenge for her fallen mother." Sherlock mused.

"What do we do? Molly's in serious danger this time." John asked.

Sherlock adjusted his coat and started to walk to a nearby street. "Oh, John, do you even have to ask?" he replied. He held his arm out to hail a cab. As soon as the two men climbed inside, Sherlock gave the address for their destination to the driver, and they set off on their way.

* * *

Later, Sherlock arrived at the pool. The place was eerily quiet, and the only light in the room came from the underwater lights in the pool. "How ironic that you choose to meet me at the same pool I met one of the most dangerous men in." he called. But this wasn't the time for sentimental thoughts; he had something more important to do. "You came here to get revenge on me, so... here I am. Only one of us is going to leave here alive, and we both know who that is." he added with a sinister tone in his voice.

A nearby door creaked as it opened. Lien entered, holding her dagger. "So, this is how it ends; you and I, against each other, in the pool that triggered your want to become a detective. I must admit that I have enjoyed our game of chess. But now, it is time for one of us to end with a checkmate." she smirked.

Sherlock scanned the room and knew that she wasn't going to play by the rules. "You can start by getting rid of your men, I can barely hear myself think over the amount of stupidity in this pool." he began.

Lien's lip twitched a little, but she radioed her men to leave. "Can you think now, Mr. Holmes?" she asked sarcastically.

"It's an improvement. Secondly, I believe you're holding Dr. Molly Hooper here as a hostage. Let her go, and then you can make your move." he continued.

"And if I do not let her go?" Lien asked, pointing her dagger at Sherlock.

Sherlock drew a gun from his jacket, having swiped it from John when he wasn't looking. "Then I end this game prematurely. And I'd rather not have to be on a 4 minute plane journey again." he answered.

Lien's lip twitched again; something Sherlock quickly deduced to only occur when she didn't get her way. "_Bring in the girl._" Lien ordered over the radio.

The door was slammed open and Sherlock heard Molly shouting loudly. "Let me go! That's hurting my shoulder!" she cried as a man who was restraining her dragged her into the room.

"Here is the girl, as promised." Lien announced. She turned to the man and ordered him to release Molly. The man did so and Molly walked over to Sherlock, rubbing her shoulder. Sherlock noticed that she had some cuts and bruises; nothing considered fatal and would heal in a matter of weeks.

Sherlock raised his gun. "Now, I believe it's your move, General." he replied calmly.

Lien put her dagger away. "I do not need my dagger for this. I plan to enact my revenge by ending your life the same way my mother's ended; a bullet through your head." she announced. She then proceeded to draw her gun. Molly flinched, recognising it to be the same gun that Lien had forced her into the car with.

"Then perhaps you should be enlightened about the true identity of the man who killed your mother; he was a sniper hired by James Moriarty, the man who helped your mother to get into Britain in 2010." Sherlock answered.

Lien's expression turned into a look of rage. "You lie..." she snarled. Her hand shook a little.

"Is that so? Your mother trusted Moriarty to assist her in her smuggling activities, and as soon as she failed him, she ends up dead? Not exactly a wise move, was it?" Sherlock asked, taking advantage of the young woman's sudden change in emotions.

"You know nothing about my mother. I will not have you speak of her in that manner, now be silent!" Lien shouted, her voice rising in volume.

Sherlock smirked. He now had her right where he wanted her; showing off her true feelings through actions instead of words. "Oh, but you had concerns with Moriarty from the very beginning. You tried to warn your mother, and when she was killed after her activities in London, the person you blamed most was **yourself**." he continued.

"I don't want to hear you speak any further. Now, be silent before I do shoot you!" Lien yelled, using both hands to hold the gun... but now they were both shaking.

The detective dropped his smirk. "This was never about revenge, General. This was about your guilt from not saving your mother from her fate. I've always believed that sentimentality is one the greatest weaknesses of the human race. And once again, that belief has been reaffirmed." he finished, his voice cold and void of any sympathy.

At Sherlock's words, Lien dropped her gun. As the sound of metal against tile echoed around the room, she sank to her knees and started to sob, her resolve having been broken with only a few words. "_Forgive me, Mother... Forgive me..._" she wept.

Molly watched the woman's emotional breakdown and couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She knew too well the pain of losing a parent, yet couldn't imagine the pain of losing both. Her head lowered, she gripped Sherlock's arm. "Sherlock... I think you've done enough. Let's go back and meet with John, okay?" she suggested, her voice quiet.

Sherlock put the gun away. "Yes, I suppose he'll be wondering why I'm not out and getting out of the cab by now." he smiled. His eyes had a look of triumph in them, a look that Molly recognised all too well.

As they started to walk away, they didn't notice Lien climb to her feet. Her eyes were blackened and she slowly aimed her gun towards Sherlock. Molly turned and her eyes widened in horror. "Sherlock, look out!" she yelled, diving before him.

A loud bang echoed through the room, and Sherlock turned to see Molly falling to the floor as she took a bullet to the stomach...


	12. Time For A Goldfish?

At the same time, John had climbed out of the cab and was heading into the building. As he entered, he heard a loud bang; one that sounded very ominous to the former soldier. "Sherlock..." he croaked, fearing the worst. He started to run as fast as he could, hoping it wouldn't be too late to save the detective. As he entered the pool, he saw Sherlock kneeling on the floor with his back turned. "Sherlock!" he exclaimed.

Sherlock, upon hearing John saying his name, turned to him. John was relieved to see he was unharmed, but he quickly spotted that Sherlock's hands were covered in blood. "John, Molly's been shot. She requires urgent attention." he began, his face unusually white. In his arms was Molly, groaning with pain as she clutched her stomach, a stain of blood on her clothes.

"Oh Christ, Molly..." John whispered as he took off his coat, kneeling down to the pathologist and getting his jumper off to try to stem the bleeding.

"I'm so glad... you both came..." Molly smiled weakly, trying her best to stay awake.

John gave her a comforting smile as he looked towards her. "Save your energy, Molly. Right now, we need to get you to hospital." he soothed. With his hand pressed down on Molly's stomach, he started to ring for an ambulance. "We need an ambulance. My friend's been shot and she needs to get to hospital now!" he began once he'd got through to the emergency services.

Sherlock looked down at Molly. Unaware to her and John, his mind palace was crumbling at the seams. This was a scenario he had never expected; his pathologist, the victim of a gunshot wound. "Molly Hooper, you must **not **die tonight. I still require you for my cases." he whispered to her, his voice trembling slightly. He took Molly's hand and gently squeezed it, desperate for her to focus on something to stay awake.

John looked over to Sherlock and watched as he held Molly's hand. He'd never seen the detective look so... shaken. _If only he was more like this to other people..._ he thought sadly.

Some minutes later, the doors burst open as paramedics rushed inside to see to Molly. John and Sherlock immediately stepped aside to let them take over. As they tried to save her, Molly reached for Sherlock's hand. "I knew... you'd come and save me..." she whispered. Sherlock gave her a small smile in response and held her hand.

"We need to give her to the hospital immediately." a paramedic announced. They carefully laid her onto the stretcher and wheeled her to the ambulance with the two men staying close behind them. As they climbed inside, the paramedic turned to the two. "I'm afraid there's only enough room in here for one of you to ride in with her. I'm really sorry, but one of you will have to make their own way to the hospital." she apologised.

John turned to Sherlock. "You go with her, mate. It'll help Molly knowing you're by her side, and I'll need to let Mary and Greg know that she's in hospital." he encouraged. Sherlock gave him a silent nod and climbed into the ambulance. As soon as he was inside, the doors were shut and the ambulance raced off to get Molly the medical attention she urgently needed.

* * *

Sometime later, Sherlock and John were in St. Bart's, and were waiting for any news on Molly's condition. "I missed a detail, John. Molly should not be in that operating theatre right now." Sherlock sighed, staring at the door to the A &amp; E. He was pacing around the room, his mind palace now in complete disarray.

"Sherlock, they're doing the best they can for her. It's not your fault she got hurt. You couldn't have known Lien was going to try to shoot you when your back was turned." John replied, trying to reassure his friend. He was sat in a nearby row of seats.

"But I should have, John! Molly's life is hanging in the balance; I cannot afford to lose someone I trust. If she dies on that operating table, the person at fault will be me for endangering her in the first place." Sherlock snapped, startling John at his response.

John didn't know what to say to comfort him, but he knew that this was unlike Sherlock to react this way. Normally, he would be almost like an emotionless robot, not caring if the person lived or died; especially if said person were to cross his path. The only times that it had been somewhat different John could recall, were the incident with Magnussen and when Moriarty had made it look like Sherlock was nothing but a fake.

But, this was _**Molly**_... Molly Hooper, the mousy pathologist who had been there for him through thick and thin, had helped him fake his own death in order to begin his personal mission to dismantle Moriarty's network... and had loved him even when he'd been nothing but cold and heartless towards her. And that made John start to realise something, but he had to be delicate about confirming his suspicions. "Sherlock... Does Molly really mean that much to you?" he asked quietly.

Sherlock looked at him. "What are you implying by that? She is one of the few individuals I trust, including you, John." he replied.

John rubbed his neck nervously. "Well, what exactly do you feel when you're thinking about Molly?" he asked.

Sherlock stopped his pacing and sat down next to John. "It is... difficult to explain. But, it is as if my chest is being crushed. My heart feels as if someone has ripped it in half... and my body is shaking all over." he admitted, looking towards his hands, which were indeed shaking. "She is good at her job, and I am glad she goes out of her way to assist me on cases." he added. As he spoke, Sherlock noticed that John was looking like the proverbial cat that got the cream as he was now grinning widely. "Does something amuse you?" he asked.

"I may be imagining things, but... I think you're starting to develop some feelings about our beloved Molly, Sherlock Holmes." John teased, wanting to see the detective squirm.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Whatever you think I feel, I can assure you that whatever 'feelings' you claim that I have for her are nothing but strictly professional. She has made her feelings about me clear on several occasions, but that is part of the weakness-."

"'_Of sentimentality'_, I know, I know. You can't keep telling yourself that forever, mate. Y'know, you'll have to discover what the other sex is like eventually." John chuckled, finishing Sherlock's sentence.

As he spoke, Mary and Lestrade ran over to them, having finally arrived at the hospital. "We got here as soon as we could! The traffic was a nightmare!" Mary exclaimed, hugging John tightly.

"Have you heard anything yet?" Lestrade asked John, looking visibly concerned.

"No, but I know she'll be alright. They're good people." John sighed.

The door creaked open as one of the surgeons came out of the theatre. He cleared his throat politely, alerting the four to his presence. "Excuse me, are you Dr. Hooper's friends?" he asked.

"Yes, we are. Is she alright?" John asked, holding Mary's hand.

"Well, it was touch-and-go for a while, but she's stable. We got the bullet out. She'll make a full recovery." the surgeon replied.

"Oh, thank God...!" Mary sighed with relief.

Lestrade's radio buzzed and he answered it, smiling when he heard the news from the officer radioing him. "We've got Lien. Sally's going to question her." he announced.

"Can we see Molly?" Mary asked the surgeon.

"Well, she's still unconscious, but once she comes to, you can see her." the surgeon promised and went back inside to clean up from saving Molly's life.

Once he was gone, Mary saw that Sherlock was acting somewhat frosty towards John and nudged her husband gently. "What's with Jack Frost over there? Did you two get into an argument or something?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Well, it was more of a disagreement than an argument. Let's just say I suggested that Sherlock might have feelings for Molly, and he strongly denied it." John whispered, grinning.

His wife covered her mouth making a gasping sound. "Now, this I have to see!" she giggled.

* * *

Later on, Molly was soon awake, but was feeling groggy from being operated on. She was resting in bed and was adjusting it so she could be more comfortable when John and Mary came to see her. "Oh, didn't expect to see you here! I figured you'd prefer staying at home with the little one." she beamed when she saw them.

"We did, but making sure you were alright was on our to-do list. That, and Mary would've been too worried about you to stay at home." John sheepishly replied with a smile.

Mary sat next to her. "How're you feeling?" she asked comfortingly.

"Well, I feel a bit groggy from being knocked out. And my stomach feels quite sore, but apart from that, I think I'll live. Spending the night in a hospital bed is not how I figured my evening would go, but, that's life!" Molly chuckled, laying back.

"Well, you gave us a bit of a scare, Molls. It's not every day someone we cherish gets shot saving the man she has a huge crush on." Mary smiled.

Molly blushed and rubbed her arm in embarrassment. "Yeah, but I think he might not be happy that his scarf got blood on it..." she admitted.

"Well, he'll just have to live with it, won't he?" John smiled.

Molly chuckled a little and looked to the door. "Is he going to come to visit?" she asked with a hopeful expression.

"He had something to take care of, but I'm sure he'll come and see you soon." Mary replied.

"Oh... I see..." Molly sighed, looking crestfallen. She lay down on the bed, resting her head on the pillow and heaved a heavy sigh.

"Hey, cheer up. At least you're being treated by the people you work with!" John encouraged, trying to make her focus on the positives of her hospital experience.

"Well, that's true, I guess..." Molly nodded with a small smile.

Mary noticed the time and got up from her seat. "Unfortunately, we'd better get going, as I don't think Mycroft is lasting long with the baby. I'll make sure Sherlock remembers to visit you, because if he doesn't, I'll drag him down to see you myself!" she promised.

Molly nodded and waved the Watsons off before relaxing back on the bed. She looked up at the ceiling and thought back to Sherlock telling her not to die when he was holding her in his arms. _Maybe he really does care about me..._ she thought. She then sighed as she then remembered who she was thinking about. _Who am I kidding? He'll never feel that way about me anyway..._

* * *

At the same time, Sherlock was watching his brother speaking to Lien. "You gave us quite the chase, General. But, I'm afraid that this is where our game must end." Mycroft announced.

"There will be others like me in China. You think you have won this battle, but you are sadly mistaken." Lien spat. She turned to Sherlock and spoke in Mandarin, her eyes full of venom and hatred.

Mycroft signalled his men to take her away as she was bundled into a car kicking and screaming. "You certainly have a way with women, brother of mine." he smirked as he watched the car be driven off.

Sherlock scoffed and lit up a cigarette. "The only 'woman' in my life is my work. You of all people should know that, Mycroft." he answered, handing a similar one to his brother as he drew a few puffs from his own.

The older Holmes lit the cigarette. "Yes, as you have claimed before. Yet, I hear that when Dr. Hooper was shot, you reacted out of character while you were waiting for news on her condition." he replied.

Sherlock paused and looked towards him. "I assume John spoke to you earlier?" he asked.

"Of course he did. We do worry about you, you know." Mycroft smiled sweetly.

The detective rolled his eyes and tapped his cigarette to get rid of some of the ashes. "Dr. Hooper is a valuable asset to my work. Our relationship is strictly professional. Sentimentality and romance is not something that can be useful for either of us." he replied coolly.

Mycroft chuckled a bit and then coughed. "This is quite a strong taste. Perhaps low-tar would be best for me." he mused, looking slightly disgusted.

The detective smirked. "At least you're admitting you smoke like an amateur." he answered.

Mycroft turned to walk back to his car, Anthea waiting nearby with phone in hand. "Perhaps you should invest in a goldfish?" he suggested.

Sherlock coughed at Mycroft's sudden words. "And what is that supposed to mean, Mycroft?" he asked, trying to catch his breath.

"It was only a suggestion. I hear goldfish are quite an ideal pet." Mycroft answered as he climbed into his car.

"Sir, the Prime Minister is expecting you to update him on the situation with the Black Lotus. Should I make a reminder in your calendar?" Anthea asked, looking up from her phone for a brief moment.

"Very well, I will speak to him when I return to the office." Mycroft answered, closing the door behind him.

Sherlock watched them go and started to make his way back to Baker Street. As he hailed for a cab, his phone buzzed with a text from Mary;

_**Molly's awake, and she's asking for you. – MW**_

_**Need to head to Baker Street. Working on another case, will see her later. – SH**_

Moments later, Sherlock received another text from Mary, but this time, it seemed like she wasn't happy with his answer.

_**Sherlock Holmes, you go see that girl right now! Or so help me I will drag you to St. Bart's myself! – MW**_

_**Will see Molly on way back instead. Is that to your liking? – SH**_

_**That's much better. Have fun! – MW**_

Sherlock gave the cab driver the address for St. Bart's and soon made his way to the hospital. As soon as he was making his way to see Molly, he spotted that the nearby gift shop was open.

* * *

Molly was reading a book to keep herself busy when the door opened. She looked over and was surprised to see Sherlock entering the room. "Sherlock? Um, what're you doing here?" she asked.

"Well, Mary persuaded me to visit you as you are now awake; as well as threatening to 'drag me to St. Bart's herself', though that remains to be seen. And I believe that it is customary to see someone when they're ill." he replied.

"Oh, well... Thanks for coming, but you didn't really have to." Molly smiled shyly, trying to sit up but wincing.

Sherlock noticed she was in some discomfort and came over to her beside. "You should really be resting, Dr. Hooper." he smirked as he adjusted her pillow to make her more comfortable. He looked down at her and saw a small blush appearing on her face. He then thought back to what his brother had said earlier and smiled to himself. _Maybe it is time I invest in a goldfish..._ he thought.


	13. The Detective's Confession

_**NEW SCOTLAND YARD, 10PM...**_

At the station, John and Lestrade sat with the families of Annie Bridges and Arnold Peterson. They had just found out that the killer of their loved ones had been caught and would be facing trial in China for murders they'd committed there and for Annie and Arnold's murders.

"At least my dad can rest in peace." Mr. Peterson's son breathed, while his sister started to sob tears of relief in his arms.

"My poor baby... She didn't deserve this." Mrs. Bridges wept while her two surviving children hugged her comfortingly, shedding their own tears for their late sister.

Lestrade shook Mr. Bridges' hand. "Once again, I'm so sorry for your loss. I was a big fan of your daughter's work." he apologised.

"Thank you, Inspector. It makes me happy to know that my little girl was loved by so many." Mr. Bridges replied, clearly relieved that his daughter's killer had been found.

John shook James' hand. "At least now you can sleep a little easier at night, Mr. Stone." he smiled sympathetically.

James nodded. "If you and Mr. Holmes hadn't solved the case, I don't know what I'd have done... I just hope Annie's happy wherever she is now." he sighed. Dark shadows were visible beneath his eyes and he was physically and mentally exhausted.

John nodded in understanding. "If you ever need our help again, you know where to find Sherlock." he replied.

Once the two families had gone to finally get a chance to grieve, Lestrade ran his hand through his hair. "I hope that Stone guy's gonna be alright. He clearly loved Annie." he sighed with a sad smile.

"S o do I, Greg. So do I..." John nodded. After a brief silence, he turned to the inspector. "I don't know about you, but I could really use a coffee." he began.

"Sounds like a plan. It's been a long night for both of us." Lestrade chuckled, walking with the former army doctor to get some coffee.

* * *

_**TWO WEEKS LATER; MOLLY'S FLAT, 7:30PM...**_

Molly was pacing around in her front room. She was clearly nervous, and for good reason; tonight was the night of the "social experiment", and at the moment, the pathologist was mentally thinking about any worst possible situations that could occur.

Watching her pace backwards and forwards was Mary, whose eyes darted from right to left, left to right and so on. "For crying out loud, Molly, get it together! You're starting to make me motion sick!" she exclaimed in frustration finally.

"Sorry, it's just... I've been dreaming about this night for years, and I... I don't want to ruin it." Molly apologised. She'd dressed in the black and white dress from **that **disastrous Christmas party, and it didn't help that things had been strangely awkward between her and Sherlock since the incident with Lien.

Mary sighed and got out from where she was sitting, Toby immediately jumping into the spot and making himself comfortable. "I know, Molls. But, look on the bright side; you won't have to dream about it anymore!" she beamed, trying to make her feel better. She rested her hands on Molly's shoulders. "Now, repeat after me; I am a beautiful woman." she began, making sure she had the nervous woman's attention.

"What're you doing?" Molly asked, looking confused.

"Just repeat what I say! _"I am a beautiful woman"_." Mary answered.

Molly took a deep breath. "I am a beautiful woman..." she breathed.

"I am successful and good at what I do."

"I am successful and good at what I do."

"I am going to make sure Sherlock Holmes gets the surprise of his life."

Molly looked suspicious at Mary's choice of words. "Mary, you do know he'd deduct me, my dress style and my manners in just seconds, right?" she asked.

"**I am going to make sure Sherlock Holmes gets the surprise of his life!**" Mary repeated through gritted teeth.

"I-I am going to make sure Sherlock Holmes gets the surprise of his life." Molly replied.

"And I will not care what that sod says whatsoever!" Mary concluded.

"And I will not care what that sod says **whatsoever**!" Molly exclaimed, adding emphasis on the last word.

"Atta girl, now let's take a good look in a mirror, shall we?" Mary encouraged, taking Molly to a nearby mirror.

Molly looked at her reflection. "Well... how do I look?" she asked.

The former assassin gave her friend a motherly smile. "You look like a woman who's about to make her biggest wish come true. Knock him dead!" she answered.

"Can't promise you anything, but I'll try." Molly giggled. She looked at the clock and ran to grab her coat. "Wish me luck! And thanks for taking care of Toby while I'm out!" she called as she made her way downstairs.

"No worries; have fun!" Mary answered, waving her off. Once the front door had closed, she turned to the very content cat relaxing on the couch. "Well... It looks like it's just you and me for now, Tobes." she chuckled.

* * *

Molly soon arrived at the restaurant Sherlock had made their meeting point. She saw him waiting in his usual coat and scarf and waved over to him to try to catch his attention. "Sherlock!" she called.

Sherlock looked over when he heard her voice and checked his watch. "You are exactly on time, Dr. Hooper. You seem eager to get this experiment over with as soon as you can." he began, having started his deductions already.

"Right... of course. So...shall we go in?" she asked, handbag in hand.

"Very well, though I trust you have brought a notepad in order to record your findings?" he answered. She nodded, and Sherlock led them inside. "The owner owes me a favour after I disproved his involvement in a robbery." he explained.

"I see... Well, it's good to know that clients appreciate you." Molly smiled kindly. She was quietly pinching herself to check she wasn't dreaming.

"Yes, all for sentimental reasons of course." Sherlock answered, turning to the maître d'. "We have a booking for a table for two; surname Holmes." he began.

"Ah yes, of course. This way, Mr. Holmes." the man answered, checking his list of reservations. He led the detective and the pathologist to a table that was far from the other diners.

"Goodness; dinner by candlelight. Isn't that nice, Sherlock?" Molly smiled, seeing that there were two candles lit on the table. She thanked the maître d' and took her seat. Carefully, she removed her coat and hung it on the back of her seat.

Sherlock looked over and immediately recognised the dress. For a moment, a look of regret crossed his face as he thought back to the Christmas party; the look of utter sadness on Molly's face at his deductions still clear in his head. "I see you're wearing that dress again..." he began.

"Oh, yes... Is that going to be a problem?" Molly asked, looking worried.

"No, it's... fine." he replied, turning his attention to one of the menus.

Molly looked relieved and also started to look through a menu. "Wow... There's so much choice in here. I don't know where to start!" she breathed.

The owner of the restaurant saw Sherlock and came over to greet him. "Mr. Holmes, so good to see you again!" he grinned.

Sherlock gave him a small nod in greeting. "It would seem that your brief stint with the law has done nothing to harm your business, Claudio." he replied coolly.

"And I see you've found yourself a girlfriend." Claudio smiled, gesturing towards Molly.

Molly looked embarrassed at Claudio's statement. "Oh no, no, I'm not his girlfriend! I-I'm just..." she began, blushing.

"She is my pathologist and my companion for the evening. Our relationship is one that is strictly business, Claudio." Sherlock answered, seeing that she was feeling rather on the spot.

"Ah, shame. You two actually would make quite a couple. But, never mind. The food and drink are on the house tonight." the restaurateur beamed. "You two let one of the waiters know what you want, and I'll make sure they're cooked to perfection." he added.

"Alright, thank you." Molly smiled politely. As soon as he was gone, she looked towards Sherlock. "Is that what you think about me, Sherlock?" she asked quietly.

Sherlock looked over to her. "You're upset that I see you as only a friend." he replied.

"What? N-No, but... Oh, never mind. Let's just order something and eat." she mumbled, turning back to her menu.

But the detective knew that something was on her mind. "Molly, you are clearly upset about something. If it is something I've done, at least say it to me directly." he began.

Molly's hands started to shake a little and she let out a faint chuckle. "You... You don't get it, do you?! I've been trying my hardest to show you how much you mean to me for years, yet you still don't understand it!" she exclaimed.

Sherlock looked somewhat alarmed. "Molly, you may need to lower your voice. You're catching unnecessary attention." he whispered, trying to spare her any embarrassment.

"I don't care! I'm way past caring now! I-I'm in love with you, you bloody idiot! I've loved you since the day I met you. Even when I got engaged to Tom, I couldn't shut off my feelings for you!" she cried, sounding like she was close to tears now.

Sherlock watched her in silence, trying to take in Molly's sudden confession. He could see the pain in her expression. She'd been holding back everything she'd felt about him, and now they were like a geyser that had just burst out of her. "Molly..." he began.

"What, Sherlock?!" she snapped. She turned and saw that most of the diners were staring at her. Looking down, she slunk back into her seat.

* * *

The rest of the night was painfully awkward for both Sherlock and Molly. Molly hadn't said a word to Sherlock aside from brief comments about their food since her sudden confession about her love for him, and Sherlock was trying to process the same confession through his mind palace. Eventually, they arrived outside the building where Molly lived.

"See you later, Sherlock." Molly sighed quietly as she climbed out of the cab and made her way to the front door.

Sherlock climbed out of the cab as well. "Molly, wait..." he began.

"It's alright, Sherlock. I-I just had a moment of weakness, that's all. I'm fine, really." she interrupted.

The detective suddenly took her hand. "Molly, you should know that... both Mycroft and I view sentimentality as a weakness. However; unlike my brother, I am starting to better my understanding about it with John and Mary's assistance." he began.

Molly looked confused. "I-I don't understand..." she blinked.

"When you took that bullet that Lien shot at me, I was in complete disarray. Nothing has made me act like this... except for you, Molly." he sighed.

The pathologist's expression was still one of confusion. "Sherlock, what're you trying to say?" she asked.

"Lately, my body has begun to react differently whenever I am around you. At first I believed that it was either stress or some underlying illness. However, after John gave me some pointers in the right direction, I now realise that these reactions can only be attributed to something that my mind palace has yet to fully comprehend; **love**." Sherlock explained, making sure he held her gaze as he spoke.

"Sherlock..." she began, covering her mouth.

"I am the only consulting detective in the world; I am antisocial, unable to understand the most basic of emotions... and a **"bloody sod"**. My mind palace is a place where I hold the most valuable information; but I know that there is one person I know who can be able to bring some source of light to it; you. I may not be able to understand how I feel about you, but I can try to understand; for _**you**_, Molly Hooper." he promised.

Molly's eyes filled with tears and she started to laugh with happiness. "That... is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me." she cried.

Sherlock gently stroked her tears away and then gently kissed her on the lips. It was surprisingly tender and not too short or too long, and Molly could feel herself melting under his kiss. After a minute or so, he gently pulled away and straightened up. "Alright, Dr. Hooper, what are your findings for our experiment?" he asked.

"W-Well, I'd say we hit a rough patch, but we got there in the end. How about you?" she asked, clearing her throat.

"I believe that this experiment, despite the negative mood towards the end, was a success." He answered.

"So... do you think we can work then?" she asked, looking at him with hope.

"Is that a subtle way of asking me out on a "date", Dr. Hooper?" Sherlock chuckled.

Molly giggled. "Why, I do believe I am, Mr. Holmes!" she replied. She let him take her into his arms and rest his forehead gently on hers. "Goodnight, Sherlock..." she whispered.

"Goodnight, Molly." he replied. After he gave her a quick kiss goodnight, he started to make his way back to Baker Street. He knew that when the two would announce to their friends that they were now a couple that both Mrs. Hudson and John would be pleased for them, but Mary would be especially thrilled.

And as he headed home, he had a small smile on his face. Whatever challenges he and Molly would face in their relationship, they would meet head on, for Molly would teach the consulting detective a new lesson; that sentimentality... was a strength.

**The End**

* * *

_Well, that's the end of the story! I had so much fun writing this story, and I'm sad to see it end!_

_Thank you to everyone who've read it, reviewed it or favourited it; it really means a lot to me, and I can't believes that it's got so many views!_


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